


girls girls girls in neon lights

by Em11134



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Female Friendship, Gen, Getting Back Together, Pining, Pre-2x10, Slow Burn, Solidarity, The Jopaz & Barchie kisses are briefly mentioned but Bughead is endgame, This is a friendship fic first and a Bughead fic second, Toni and Betty end the Serpent dance, post-2x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 20:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 47,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13015320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em11134/pseuds/Em11134
Summary: Post 2x08.After Jughead walks away, Betty’s left alone in the Whyte Wyrm parking lot. Toni Topaz drives her home. Secrets are revealed, barbs are thrown, and then: an alliance is formed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: canon-typical violence, self-harm, sexual harassment, sexist slurs, and references to alcohol and drug abuse.
> 
> This story was written immediately after 2x08 aired. For the most part it diverges from canon after FP’s retirement party.

Toni Topaz pushes open the back door of the Whyte Wyrm and reaches into her jacket pocket for her pack of smokes. She’s grateful it’s unseasonably warm-and not only because her uncle blew the gas money on jingle jangle for Byrdie (likely in exchange for some gross old-person sex). She’s not looking forward to another winter keeping the oven door open after cooking just to savor the heat.

She’s also grateful the bartending shift is over. The boys made her decision for her when they jumped the counter and raided the Evan Williams; apparently, pouring into glasses is a waste of their oh-so-precious time. Right now they are passing the bottle and shout-singing along to “Ace of Spades.” Even Tallboy’s there, oddly enough, his current loathing for FP dwarfed by his love for Motörhead. She’s tired of middle aged white dudes and their music. When she’s old enough to take over the Wyrm, the first order of business is dumping that jukebox.

She’s mentally compiling her dream playlist (Nicki Minaj, Missy Elliott, some early Lil Kim?) when Fangs Fogarty cracks the heavy metal door behind her.

“Awww, Topaz!” he says in his smarmiest voice, “Moping out here all by your lonesome? Heart-broken that Jones prefers blondes after all?”

“‘All by your lonesome?’ Why are you channeling Grandma Fogarty,” Toni asks, rolling her eyes. “And for the record, I’m not after Jughead. One makeout session at three am doesn’t exactly make my heart go pitter-patter. He’s a friend, the kid deserved a little pick-me-up after the number Sweetpea’s brass knuckles did on him.” 

She’s not lying, exactly. She likes Jughead. He’s sarcastic enough to keep up with her, and he’s got a 90’s Leo vibe, once he takes that ratty old hat off. When they first met, he seemed both new and familiar. She’d known about him, from all the nights FP spent soused at the Wyrm, bragging about his kid’s A+s. She’d seen his books lying around FP’s trailer, even slept in his bed a couple nights last year (FP gave her the keys to the trailer after Jughead did his own nomad thing, when her uncle kicked her out for a spell.) So she knows he’s artsy, and a mystery junkie like she is. 

And after she met him, well, she saw that Jughead was a thinker. He had leadership potential, and he came around just when the Serpents needed a brain. Sweetpea’s her brother, but she’s gotten tired of his “pay the brass tax” schtick. The brawler’s gonna land them all in juvie. 

She’s a thinker, too, and she’d be a better leader than anyone in this crew, but they won’t follow her alone. With FP3 on her side, she has a chance. The Jones name goes a long way, and so does having a dick, to her endless fury.

So maybe-after the gauntlet, before they kissed-she saw them as some kind of power couple. Prince and princess of the snake pit. She imagined a future where she’d run the Wyrm, and he’d run the illegal business, but smart, lower risk. Like FP would, if he could only stay sober.

And Jug seemed chiller than Sweetpea, so she didn’t figure he would have much of a problem with some extracurricular girl-time.

“Besides, you know my truest love is pussy.” 

“You still owe me for stealing my girlfriend,” Fangs says, smirking. He looks boyish for a moment, like he did when they were 8, that summer her father was dying. She lived at his gran’s little house by the tracks, and during afternoon snack of apples and peanut butter, Fangs would try to impress her by tossing the slices high and catching them in his mouth. Toni remembers the time Fangs found her crying for her papa, and he wiggled his ears until she giggled again. 

“Fuck off, Fangs,” she says, laughing. “We both know that finding me naked in bed with Ginger was the highlight of your freshman year. Don’t pretend you had real feelings for her. And NO, before you ask, I am not interested in a threesome.” 

“Alright, alright. Look, I’m heading out soon and I wanted to see if you needed a place to crash tonight.”

“Nah, I’m set. Thanks, though.” He pulls her pink braid cheekily before heading back inside. 

Toni flips open her Zippo, but before the flame hits the tip of her cigarette she notices that the shadow behind the dumpster is moving. She pockets the lighter, puts the cigarette behind her ear, and pulls out her switchblade, holding it inside her fist. As she gets closer, she hears a sniff, and she debates calling for reinforcements before she turns the corner and sees: it’s no Ghoulie, it’s Jug’s blonde. 

Betty Cooper is seated on the asphalt, holding her knees to her chest. Her fists are white-knuckled against her legs, and she’s weeping. She’s quiet about it, too: no sobs, just little hitched breaths, like a hiccuping kitten.

For a second they just look at each other. Toni realizes Betty must’ve heard every word, and waits for a snide remark or maybe even some hairpulling, which seems like the attack of choice for a cheerleader.

She’s no stranger to jealous girlfriends. Most of her friends are men, men for whom lying is an occupational hazard. Their girlfriends watch them ride off on a motorcycle beside Toni, who knows herself to be a 10 even before she puts on the leather, and later they watch their men stroll in after dawn, no explanation, no apologies. It’s understandable that they’d feel a sting and occasionally get shrill about it

But Betty says nothing, just wipes her eyes with her forearm. So Toni goes on the offense, “What? Nothing to say? Not gonna call me a Serpent slut and blame me for leading Jughead astray?”

“No,” Betty says, in a hollow voice. “It’s not your fault if he wants you.” There’s no anger (not yet, anyway), just resignation. Toni is struck with pity and a bit of disgust. What the hell is wrong with this girl? she thinks, returning her switchblade to her pocket. Why doesn’t she fight back?

“Besides,” Betty continues, “I’ve been called Serpent slut enough myself. I’m not gonna do it to you.” She pushes herself up with one hand, wincing when her palm hits the blacktop. When upright, she laces her fingers together and steps out from the shadows.

“Northsiders didn’t take too well to the serpent dance?” 

“Well, my mom’s livid. And, um, Jug…, here, her voice cracks, “broke up with me. Left me here.”

“Wow,” Toni says. She figured Jug would not appreciate seeing his girlfriend on the pole-he’s kinda uptight about Betty, after all...but to dump her? The last time she’d seen them, they were looking at each other all soft-eyed in the pink light, and Jug had his hands in the back pockets of Betty’s little denim skirt. Toni kept expecting cartoon hearts to appear above their heads.

Then Betty rushes to explain. “Not that Jug called me a slut. He’d never! That was the kids at Riverdale when I published the article after FP got arrested, saying that he was innocent. Tonight, Jug just said he was keeping me away from the Serpents. To keep me safe.” 

Now, Betty’s crying again, and when the light hits the tears in her big green eyes, they sparkle. The girl looks like every storybook ingenue, and her blonde hair is a halo. So Toni scoffs. She’s no fan of damsels in distress, but she’s not going to leave a girl behind.

“Wait here. And don’t move. We don’t want any of the boys getting any ideas from your bad-girl-Sandy moment.” 

She heads back inside and finds Sweetpea and Fangs at the pool table. “Look, Jug and Betty had some kind of lover’s tiff, and the damn fool left her here. You seen Alice Cooper?”

“She stormed out a half hour ago. Bitch is crazy.” Sweetpea says admiringly.

“And kinda hot.” Fangs interjects.

“She knocked back 5 shots of tequila and started shoving FP around like she couldn’t decide whether to fuck him or fight him. These Northsiders…” he says, shaking his head. “But they look good in Serpent black, I’ll say that. Did you get a look at that lacy thing the cheerleader had on? I could-“

Toni cuts him off before he can pursue that line of thought. “Look, we gotta get Betty back across the tracks somehow. Gimme the keys to your bike, one of you.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Fangs says, tossing her keys. “FP’s passed out on the backroom couch. I swiped his keys. Last thing he needs is a DUI while on probation. You can just take his truck.” 

Toni salutes the boys, and heads back outside where Betty’s waiting. She jerks her chin towards the truck. 

“Won’t FP need it?” Betty asks.

“Nah, he’s in for the night. Get in, T. Swift.”

——————————————————————

Betty Cooper leans her head against the window as Toni pulls out of the lot, and surreptitiously checks to make sure she didn’t get any blood on the seatbelt. Earlier tonight, gazing at herself in her bedroom mirror, she imagined ending the night in this truck. But Jughead would be with her, kissing her and holding her, telling her he believed it now: that she loved him, that she wanted him, that she’d never leave. He’d tell her she was beautiful, and sexy, and he wanted to share every part of his life with her, dark and light, like she had with him. She’d push his hat off his head, and caress the curl over his forehead, and he’d unbutton her blouse and kiss the swell of her breast over the black bustier...

Instead, she’s here with Toni, imagining how much better the other girl would look in black lace. 

This thought has her eyes getting a bit teary again. Just as Toni looks over, too, since apparently Betty is not going to retain any dignity tonight. (Or any time soon: she sees a lot of public crying in her future) 

“Why’d you do it?” Toni asks, eyebrow arched.

“Do what?”

“The stripshow. I mean, it’s the price we pay to join, and the Serpents are family, so I paid it, even though it’s disgusting and sexist and outdated. But you’ve got a family already, and a nice house on the Northside of town, and all those cashmere sweaters. Why give that up for a boy who screens your calls? Why not just date one of those sentient letterman jackets instead?”

Betty flinches, because it’s one thing to suspect, but it’s another to know: Jughead has been avoiding her. 

“Jughead is as much my family as my sister or my parents. I love him,” she says, and she refuses to be embarrassed by the fervor she hears in her own voice. “He’s been my friend since we were 4 years old. I think I will always love him.”

Toni looks skeptical. “Even if he doesn’t want you?” 

By now, Betty’s hands are burning, and she has the strange feeling that she’s back at cheerleader tryouts. But there’s no Veronica here, to fight fire with ice. There’s just Betty: plain, ordinary, perpetually second-choice. 

I’m not that Betty anymore, she thinks. I won’t be.

“Yes,” she says, decisively. “Even if he does not belong to me….I’m still his. I won’t ever give up on him, or his dad. “I know you think I’m just some privileged Northside princess, and maybe I am. That’s a part of me, anyway. I’m a cheerleader, and I’m on dance committee, and I bake delicious apple pie. I don’t understand life on the Southside, as much as I wish I did. But I’m more than some archetype, ok? I’m a person, just like you’re more than the patch on your back. I fight when it matters. For my friends, for Jug.” She takes a deep breath, her words coming faster now.

“I figured out who killed Jason Blossom, I organized the fundraiser that saved Pops. I’m the one that blackmailed Cheryl so she’d testify for FP. Jug should see I’m not a liability. I’m an asset!”

Betty realizes that she’s probably said too much, far more than she intended, anyway. Toni’s staring at her in blank shock. But she’s tired of being treated as though there’s nothing more to her than the Cooper veneer.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Toni takes a deep breathe and says, “Alright. Maybe I misjudged you. I’ll come to you if I ever see Jug’s in trouble and we could use Northside help.” She pauses. “And, for what it’s worth? He and I are friends. We hooked up after you broke up the first time. Because it’s easy between us, and maybe he wanted a rebound. But he’s not pining over me, and I’m certainly not pining over him. So rest easy on that score.”

Betty smiles a little, recognizing the overture for what it is, and opens the car door. “Thanks” she says softly.

“And Betty?” Betty turns, and sees Toni smirking through the window.

“You looked good in black.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New readers, please note: Later chapters allude to the events of 2x09. However, they are not the focus of the story, as I had already plotted the story when the episode aired (If you’re a Riverdale fan you’re probably used to the effects of violence & trauma being sidelined, so I hope you won’t hold it against me. ;) ). The story ends before the events of 2x10.
> 
> This means: Grandpa Topaz doesn’t exist, and the Serpents did not start as a Uktena organization. They do not require you be raised on the Southside in order to be a member & the Serpent Dance counted as a form of initiation, meaning Sweetpea does not see Betty as enemy of the Serpent state. Hal is not the Black Hood. Veronica & Archie are not mobsters, and I’ve ignored the implications of the Red/Dark Circle subplots for the most part. Fangs is straight (& kind of a bro.) Jughead & Toni’s “groping session” was just a brief makout.
> 
> A warning to shippers: This is primarily a story about Betty & Toni’s developing friendship & how their alliance could lead to the end of the Serpent Dance. Bughead’s love is ever-present in the background, but Jughead’s POV is not included, and the Bughead reconciliation a very, very slow.
> 
> A note on characterization: Toni here is a combination of comics!Toni & 2A Toni, and other characters’ personalities are based more on Season 1 than Season 2 (meaning Betty & Alice are extremely Type A, Jughead is an emo kid under too much pressure, etc. They are all softer than they are in canon). I drew heavily on specific aspects of each girl’s character: 1) Betty’s grace & lack of cattiness towards romantic rivals (we have never seen her take her jealousy out on its object-see: the way she befriended Veronica immediately despite the B/A/V triangle), which I found especially refreshing considering she is certainly canonically snippy/has rage issues when it comes to family or politics, & 2) Toni’s eagerness to take on a tour guide/mentor role (ie, she was basically Jughead’s life coach in 2A, which I took to mean she loves to treat people as projects/tell them what to do-& she’s generally fantastic at it). I used Archie Comics canon to name other Serpent characters (Cricket O’Dell, Ginger Snapp, Sheila Wu, etc), but their personalities are entirely my own invention.
> 
> I did not have a beta, so I apologize for overzealous comma use & the occasional grammatical error.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> To old readers: Thanks again for all the support and for encouraging me to finish my first piece of fiction since 3rd grade. 
> 
> I’m open to constructive criticism!


	2. Chapter 2

The next night, Toni’s wiping down the bar with one hand and swiping right on a sloe-eyed redhead with the other when the door bangs open. In stomps Alice Cooper, looking like a vengeful Martha Stewart in a powder blue skirt suit. The effect is somewhat lessened by the fact that Toni’s seen her in black leather, telling Hog Eye filthy stories about her time in lockup with a bunch of Ghoulie hookers. 

“Where’s FP?” Alice snarls, narrowing her feline eyes.

“Check the office, Mrs. Cooper,” Toni says. “I believe you know your way around.” She cannot help needling the woman a little. Toni Topaz can’t stand phonies. 

Alice tosses her blonde hair and click-clacks around the corner on silver stilettos. Soon enough, there’s a slamming door and muffled shouts. Toni considers eavesdropping, but reconsiders when she remembers what Sweetpea said about them yesterday. She doesn’t want an accidental front-row to some Gen X hatesex. 

She’s abandoned Tinder and is stacking clean glasses when Alice storms back in to the front room, followed closely by FP, who is looking a bit battered in his customary blue flannel and jeans. It’s clear where Jug gets his dark circles. 

“I promise you, FP. I won’t hesitate to go straight to Mayor McCoy if I have to.”

FP huffs, running his hand through his hair. “Look, I have no control over it. I’d change things if I could, I would, but we put it to a vote last year and it didn’t pass. And anyway, Alice, this is Serpent business. You left the gang, remember? You’re only here now because you can’t control your daughter, and you want me to do it for you.” He runs his tongue over his teeth. “I heard strict rules didn’t work so well for your eldest. Betty’s a good girl, she might do well on a looser leash.”

Alice is so furious that her chest visibly expands.  
“Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Second, of all people, giving me parenting advice?” She barks a contemptuous laugh. 

“After what you did to your son! That boy had a chance. He’s clever, good with words. And he had Betty on his side; if nothing else, the girl is loyal. She’s headed to an Ivy, and she would’ve dragged him along with her. Now he’s in the snakepit, and on the fast track to a prison cell. Maybe it’s better he ends up there, if it keeps him far away from my daughter.” Even Toni is a bit taken aback by Alice’s cruelty, but FP merely waves her towards the door. 

“Don’t you worry about my boy. Keep to Northside business, leave the Southside to me. Hurry home, now. I’m sure Hal’s waiting for the little woman to whip up his pot roast.” He wiggles his fingers in a mocking wave. Alice rolls her eyes and flounces out the door, slamming it hard in lieu of a last word. 

FP sits on a barstool and lets out a deep sigh, smiling ruefully at Toni.

“Fill er up, will you, kid?” She dutifully pours him a double whiskey, which he knocks back quickly.

“Lemme guess, she’s not happy about Betty’s performance?”

“Understatement of the century. She’s threatening to write an expose about exploitation of minors at the Wyrm, to get us closed down.”

“But our PR has been bad for years, and we’re still standing.”

“Don’t you worry. I’ll handle Alice. She’s just angry that Betty is following in her footsteps. Which is nonsense, because Betty doesn’t take after her mother much, besides the hair and the tenacity. The viper gene must skip a generation.” FP laughs, almost fondly.

“Well, I’m sure she’s happy they split. But, FP, do you think we could revisit a ban on the dance? I mean, if it could cause trouble anyway,” Toni asks carefully. 

FP jerks, staring intently at her. “Split! What do you mean split!?” 

“She said Jug dumped her after your speech. Some chivalrous bs about how the Serpents were too dangerous and she better steer clear” 

FP’s shaking his head, muttering under his breath, “Stupid, stupid boy.”

“-but like I was saying, don’t you think this is an opportunity to rethink things, make things a little more equitable for the girls around here?”

“Toni,” FP says distractedly as he stands. “You know we don’t have the votes yet. I’m with you, you know I am. But you gotta garner support first. Things will change someday. You just need patience. I gotta go, kid. Thanks for the drink. And keep an eye on Jug, will you?”

“On it, FP,” Toni says, sighing. She tosses his empty glass into the sink and walks over to the pole, running a sapphire painted fingernail down the metal.

She was only 14, a late bloomer, when she did her initiation dance. Until then, she’d worn utilitarian black sports bras, but for the occasion, she stole a pale pink bra and panty set from Riverdale’s only lingerie store. The lace was scratchy against her skin, and the straps dug into her shoulders, but it fit about as well as her other clothes (which were mostly secondhand). 

Cricket O’Dell and Ginger Snapp lent her makeup, but only the eyeliner was usable; her skin’s darker than theirs. In retrospect, the smoky eye they produced made her look like a Jones boy. Still, she’d felt so eager, so grown-up, so grateful to have a chance to prove herself worthy of a family. 

On that stage, with all those old man leering at her, she’d felt scared and lonely and a little nauseous. She imagines her moves were far more awkward than the girls in the music videos she’d tried to copy, but the crowd didn’t care, clapping and roaring and stomping feet.

After, some of the older boys started calling her Cupid because of the heart-shaped birthmark on her back, which they couldn’t keep their hands off and which she herself hadn’t even known was there. They shut up once she broke a beer bottle over Porkchop’s head. But Toni never forgot. 

She even brought it up to a few of the other girls, but Byrdie told her to shut the fuck up and feel lucky. She said, Serpent girls have an easy go of it. Rumor is that Ghoulie girls get sexed in, after all. She said, Plenty of girls got it worse. 

By now, Toni’s read enough feminist lit to know that this kind of a comparison is a trap. She knows that both gangs are wrong, and that it’s up to her to fix things. And she has an idea how.  
——————————————————————-  
The next day at lunch, she’s sandwiched between Jughead and Fangs. Sweetpea’s in the principal’s office for some trumped up infraction. Fogarty is idly throwing French fries at the Ghoulie table, and Jones is ploughing through his third burger. Jug isn’t looking too good, his undereye circles rivaling his father’s after a week-long bender.

He’s still snarking and smirking, but he’s got that dead look in his eye, the one he had after the gauntlet, when he should’ve been thanking God to have Toni motherfucking Topaz in his lap. It’s the one that says he’s got nothing to lose-a very Southside look. And Toni cannot have the another Jones in the gang with poor impulse control.

She decides to jump right into the snake tank.

“So, you gonna thank me, Juggie?” He flinches slightly at the nickname before swallowing his burger and saying, “For what?”

“For taking your ex home after you left her in the Whyte Wyrm parking lot.” 

Jug stares at her in horror, “Wait, what?”

Fangs says, “Damnnnnn you dropped that hot piece? Just as she was getting interesting?” 

Jughead’s glare is murderous enough that Fangs puts his hands up, palms out, and backs off. Toni just rolls her eyes. 

“Yeah, it was about as awkward as you’d expect it to be. Probably should’ve told her what happened the night of the gauntlet, so she didn’t have to hear it from loudmouth over there,” jerking her thumb towards Fangs. 

What little color was in Jughead’s face to begin with has gone, and he is nearly vibrating with tension. Better, at least, than the sulks, Toni thinks.

“Tell me there was a cat fight,” Fangs says, holding his hands together as if in prayer. “And tell me it happened while she was wearing that black lace teddy. Please, Topaz.” 

“Fuck off, we ain’t that cliché. Betty’s alright, she knows the blame should go to the fuckboy, not the other woman.” 

Then she leans in, and looks at him solemnly. “She doesn’t seem to have much blame for you, though, Jug. That chick is ride or die like I’ve never seen.” 

Toni’s telling the truth. She’s known very little love without conditions in her life. Even the Serpents only love her as long as she follows their rules. But Betty Cooper’s loyalty appears to require nothing, not even reciprocation. Toni can’t decide if it’s pathetic or just tragic. But she knows if she had it for herself, she wouldn’t give it up.

Jughead is not reassured by this. In fact, he’s looking downright tortured, pulling his hat further down over his ears in agitation. “That’s because she blames herself.” he says.

“What the hell? That makes no sense.”

“She grew up with Alice Cooper as a mother.” Jughead sighs. “Cooper logic is notable for being illogical.”

“Fair enough. Anyway, the reason I brought it up is that she left some of her stuff behind. I figured I should let her know I’ve got it, and she probably doesn’t want to see you. Clean break and all.” At this, Jug leans his head back and closes his eyes, pained. “Can I get her number so we can do a handoff?” Toni hopes that he doesn’t ask what Betty could’ve left behind. 

“Just don’t talk about me anymore with her, please, Toni,” he says, sliding his unlocked phone towards her. 

“All my conversations pass the Bechdel test, you narcissist,” she says, though she’s not sure last night’s did. 

 

She clicks on “Betts” and looks for a moment at the contact photo. It’s Betty Cooper as Toni has never seen her: her eyes are heavy-lidded, but free of makeup, and her lips are swollen pink and similarly bare. Her blonde locks are in disarray. She has a look on her face so openly adoring that Toni knows Jug was the photographer. She feels like a third wheel just looking at it. 

Toni screenshots the contact info and then sends it to herself, sliding the phone back towards Jug, who is scowling at his empty lunch tray. Then she starts typing. 

Toni: hey betty this is toni, got your # from jug. wanted to pick your brain about something

Betty: Hi! Is Jughead OK? What can I do for you

Toni: yea, hes alright. it’s not about jug, it’s about your mom. nothing urgent but it’s better to talk in person can we meet

Betty: Definitely.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days feel interminable for Betty, who’s been grounded for a week because of her “outrageous, Betty, a disgraceful stunt” at the Whyte Wyrm. Her mother even threatened to make her quit the River Vixens, but relented after Betty insisted, “The teachers listen to student gossip, Mom. We don’t want them to have the idea that I’m unreliable when recommendation letter season comes around.” 

As she expected, this tactic was effective. Alice Cooper wrongly believes that every adult in Riverdale is as much a fiend for gossip as she is. In actuality, the only teacher at Riverdale who paid attention to student athletics practice attendance was Geraldine Grundy, for now-obvious reasons. And Betty doubts even Weatherbee walking in on her boiling Chuck Clayton like a lobster would change his mind about perfect girl-next-door Betty Cooper. She’s done the administration enough favors for her status among school staff to be secure. But of course, Alice believes that just because she herself would use a reference letter to tear someone apart, everyone else would be as vicious.

Not for the first time, Betty pities her mother, for whom the world begins and ends at town limits, for whom every Riverdale resident is a paparazzo or a wolf-in-sheeps-clothing. Betty isn’t sure that her mother has ever had a real friend, like Betty has in Archie and Kevin and now Veronica and (still, always) Jug. Someone who would defend her if she couldn’t find the words to defend herself. Someone who’d look straight into her open wounds and want to kiss them. 

Though Betty knows that she can rely on her friends, she is vague about the breakup with Veronica and Kevin. She lets them assume that Archie drove her home from the Whyte Wyrm. They focus on Veronica’s own tale of heartbreak (“the Breakfast at Tiffany’s of it all, Ronnie!,” Kevin had exclaimed, as he walked through the hall with each arm linked through one of the girl’s). So too, the striptease-and her mother’s subsequent fury-take up a fair amount of lunchtime conversation.

Betty reports the serpent dance like she would report a news story: just the facts. She details the exact cut of her bustier (receiving gushing assurances from both of them that she must’ve been “total smokeshow”) and the incongruity of the song choice (which leads to a lively debate over what song Kevin would choose for his own “Magic Mike moment.”) Kevin scolds, “How many opportunities to we really have in Riverdale to wear body glitter? Not many, Betty! How dare you waste one?” while Veronica says she would probably have gone with “something silk, like Blair Waldorf-as-baby-vamp. Or Elizabeth Taylor in Butterfield 8! Wouldn’t I look so glam in an ivory slip and mink coat?” Their chatter lets Betty fade into the background, where, she realizes, she usually is.

She doesn’t tell them what it felt like, to unbutton her blouse under the hot lights. She doesn’t tell them how she emptied her mind, deep breaths, deep breaths, because she knew that if she let even one thought enter it, she’d hear Cheryl Blossom snap; “Too Season 5 Betty Draper.” So she stared into Jughead’s eyes, and the crowd became just so much white noise, and she felt his name beating fast with her heart: Jughead, Jughead, Jughead. And she doesn’t tell them how her throat closed and her hands clenched around the metal as she watched his face fall, and his lips form into a scowl, but she couldn’t look away, and she couldn’t stop, she had to finish what she started, she always finishes what she starts. 

To Veronica’s credit, she does make an attempt to pry in the Vixens changing room. But Betty fobs her off, asking whether seeing Archie on the field will be awkward, and then Cheryl is rushing them out the door with a barb that has Veronica huffing and rolling her eyes, and the moment is lost. If Betty has learned anything from the Black Hood, it’s that her friends are exceedingly distractible (or is her Cooperface that good?).

It’s not that Betty wants to hide things from her friends. It’s that she knows if she starts talking, she won’t stop, and then she’ll cry, and she doesn’t need all of Northside seeing her weeping hysterically just days after all of Southside saw her naked. Also, she doesn’t want Veronica concocting some revenge plot on her behalf against Jughead, Toni Topaz, and probably the entire Southside Serpents gang, in a vain attempt to exorcise her anger at Archie.

So Betty focuses on the teachers when in class, and after school she locks herself in her room to read ahead in her textbooks and watch black-and-white holiday movies and practice her Vixens routine in front of the mirror. And if sometimes she hears his voice in her ears, saying “Until it sticks”... if sometimes she lays the black lace out on her pink bedspread and bloodies her palms...well, as long as she keeps her curtains closed, no one will know she cries but her.

She doesn’t think about meeting Toni until Thursday, when her mother calls.

“Betty, I just received a phone call that your Adderall is due for a refill. I have duties here at the Register. I do not want you to be without your medication when you have school tomorrow. Also, your current undereye concealer is insufficient-you look a good 10 years older, Betty, we really need to talk to the doctor about sleeping pills-so you need to pick up a new tube. I’d like you to go to the drugstore after school. I’ll pick you up as soon as I finish work, probably around 4.” So Betty sends a text.

Betty: Hi! My house arrest has been lifted. I have until 4 PM. I have to go to the pharmacy. Do you mind meeting me on Main? 

The reply is immediate.

Toni: cool see u there after school

——————————

Betty has submitted the prescription to the pharmacist, picked up new first aid supplies (blister bandages for the open wounds, since bandaids fall off if she washes her hands, and gauze and adhesive as a preventative measure), and is surveying lipsticks in the makeup aisle when she hears a voice behind her. 

“Need a new tube of Princess Pink?” 

She turns to see Toni Topaz leaning against a display of sunglasses. Her pink hair is in a loose braid, and she’s wearing a low-cut purple T-shirt, tight black jeans, and purple Chuck Taylors. She’s got her Serpent jacket in her arms, and she’s smirking.

“This one’s called, um, Bewitching Burgundy.” Betty says. “So what is it you wanted to talk about? Your text was pretty vague.”

“It’s about your mom, actually. I was working the Wyrm last week and she stormed in to tear into FP about the Serpent Dance. She threatened to call the cops accusing the Serpents of exploiting minors so she could get the bar shut down.”

Betty cringes and starts to stutter apologies, when Toni interrupts with a hand in the air.

“No, no, no, stop, lemme finish. And don’t apologize for what your mother does. That’s her, not you. But she actually gave me an idea. I want the Dance gone just as much as Alice Cooper does. I think it’s toxic and outdated, and it makes the boys see us as pieces of ass first and foremost. Things are already hard enough for girls. You know we’ve never had a woman running the gang? The highest in rank is the snake charmer, and Penny only got where she is because she’s an expert blackmailer with a law degree. And she got plenty of flak anyway, saying that she sucked dick for grades. I’ve got nothing against stripping. It’s honest work, and it can be fun in certain...private moments” At this, Toni seems to lose her train of thought, caught in a pleasant memory. Then she catches herself.

“But I don’t think the dance should be mandatory, especially when most of us join so young. It encourages the boys to see us as sex objects before we have even had sex. It’s pretty fucking creepy, when you think about it.”

Betty crinkles her brows. “Sooo...you want me to encourage my mom’s plan?”

“Hell no! I’m not about to let the Northside try to come in and force us, top-down. Not only does that go against everything we stand for, but it’s not sustainable. It’s only works long-term if the change comes from within.”

“That makes sense…”

“I want to use you and your mom as leverage, but I don’t want to do it behind your back.”

Betty squares her shoulders. “I’m in. I’ll do whatever you need.” She does agree that the practice is misogynistic, and it would be satisfying to do something to promote equity on the Southside. But her motives are also selfish: she wants to prove to Jughead that he can’t control her. If hanging around Serpents is safe enough for him, it’s safe enough for her, too.

“So I’m thinking about forcing another vote. I’m going to tell the girls I heard a rumor that we’re to be targeted by the Sheriff for sexual performance by underage girls. That will bring it up as a topic of conversation. I won’t mention your name, though. I don’t want the girls to associate you with the pigs.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just finished getting everyone to rally around Jughead! The last thing I need is someone trying to keep you out of the Wyrm and him to start throwing punches. We don’t need him making any more enemies than he’s got already.”

“But we’re broken up. And the whole point of the breakup was to keep me out of the Whyte Wyrm.” 

Toni rolls her eyes. “Gimme a break. That won’t last long. Jug is totally obsessed with you. I know an endgame when I see one.”

Betty smiles. “So what exactly is it you need from me?”

“I need you to keep an eye on your mom. Try to distract her, and let me know if she’s making any real plans to contact the Mayor or write one of her op-eds. If she comes down hard too soon, on some kind of Northside moral crusade, the Serpents will double-down just to be contrary. I need the threat, not the follow-through.” Betty gives a decisive nod. “On it.”

“Also, I wanted to warn you before I brought it up to the gang because...well, I didn’t want you to think I was trying to sabotage your relationship with Jughead or anything. I know the dance is a sore subject with you and Jug. I mean, I thought he was gonna launch himself over the lunch table and knock Fangs’ teeth out after the kid paid you a lewd compliment the other day. That might get worse. So I wanted to clear that with you first.”

“You know what, go ahead. Make him uncomfortable. He should be uncomfortable, if he sees me like some kind of damsel in distress! He, of all people, should know I can handle myself. But if I have to be a girl next door, at least you can use the archetype for a purpose. Besides-” 

“Uh oh,” Toni says, and Betty turns to see her mother entering the store. Toni immediately moves behind the eyeglass tower at the end of the aisle, and Betty turns to face her mother, schooling her expression into one of placidity.

“Betty, I picked up your prescription. Have you been idling here all afternoon?” Alice rifles through Betty’s shopping basket, inspecting the label of the lipstick and then placing it back onto the shelf with an angry clang. “Burgundy? What did I tell you about red lipstick, Betty? Your color is Perfect Pink. I don’t know why you’d even want to paint your face so garishly.” Alice pushes her down the aisle with a hand squeezing her bicep, and Betty does her best to tune out her mother’s voice.

She turns back just in time to see Toni pocket the burgundy lipstick with a conspiratorial wink.


	4. Chapter 4

A week later, her end-the-serpent-dance campaign has stalled, but Toni Topaz is still basking in triumph. Penny Peabody is out of the picture, hopefully for good, and Toni has the satisfaction of knowing she bet on the winning horse. Jughead Jones proved himself to be the Serpent Prince she knew he could be: clever, charismatic, and oh-so-brutal. Yeah, sure, he looked like a proper Jax Teller, waving that switchblade around, and the tattoo move was inspired; it certainly endeared him to the boys. But Toni is more impressed by the fact that he strategized, rallying backup before running off guns blazing (or should she say blades out?). 

Besides, she knows the man has a gooey center, for all his newfound cutthroat ways, evident in the dopey grin that emerges every time he mentions his new typewriter (“It’s a vintage Underwood, Toni. It’s a classic.” “Yes, Jug, I know. I heard you the first 500 times.”) He’s come to the Wyrm a couple times over the past few days, but he storms out as soon as he spots his father; since FP’s on-and-off love affair with the bottle is decidedly on-again, that means he doesn’t stick around long. Right now, FP is passed out on the worn corduroy couch in the back room, and she has her phone alarm set at hour intervals so she doesn’t forget to check that he’s still breathing.

She doesn’t expect Jug or FP to be at the bar later today, because there’s cleanup to do after the Southside Toys 4 Tots gift exchange. And because misogyny dies hard, the Serpents think scrubbing stains out of pool table felt is a job best suited to women. Fortunately, once the bar is spic-and-span, there’s poker night to look forward to. 

She surveys the trash cans, overflowing with gift wrap and paper plates and empty bottles, and the floor, littered with cigarette butts and mashed Cheerios. And then she looks at the stripper pole, wrapped in green tinsel, and decides to send a text.

Toni: hey all girl party at the Wyrm tonight. up for it?

The reply comes 15 minutes later.

Betty: Yes, thank you! Should I bring anything? I have plenty of Christmas cookies left! *cookie emoji* *xmas tree emoji* 

Toni: we never say no to food. 8?

Then, remembering Alice Cooper in all her Stepford glory, she sends another message.

Toni: come earlier if u r up for cleaning bc we gotta scrub down the bar. prob best to prep u before u meet the girls

Betty: Ok. I can bring some extra cleaning supplies?

Toni: cool c u at 4? no pastels

Betty: Ok. See you then.

By the time Betty bustles in, carrying a large foil-covered ceramic dish in her hand and an overfull tote over her shoulder, Toni has checked on FP twice, unloaded Lysol, paper towels, and garbage bags from the cabinet, and read all the Google news updates about the Black Hood on her phone. 

As she had predicted, the killer was a middle aged white man. Of course, this means all the articles take a “Neighbors say they never saw it coming. He seemed like such a nice man.” angle, which has her a bit sour. A few, including the Register, mention that the witnesses to the final shootout were minors, “unnamed to preserve their privacy in this trying time”. 

Toni got the bare bones of the story last night from Jughead, who’d looked like a wrung out dishrag as he told her: the minors in question were Betty and Archie. He said the Hood was obsessed with Betty, and had left a human finger in a box on her doorstep. Toni had teetered between pity and the sort of adrenalized fascination she feels watching true crime documentaries on Netflix. 

It seems a bit unreal that she’s sitting in a bar now with the real-life final girl, who looks, well, just like you’d expect the virgin who makes it to the end of the horror movie to look. Betty’s take on “no pastels” is a pale gray crew neck sweater, dark jeans, and cognac leather riding boots, hair loose and brushed straight. Her eye makeup is neutral, her lips are painted pink. Her oatmeal cotton totebag features the outline of a cat in a Santa hat and the words “Meow-y Xmas!” on the side.

“Hey, thanks for having me!,” Betty says, chipper as ever, setting her bags on the bar. “I brought some rags, clorox, wood cleaner, and felt cleaner, since I noticed the pool table last..um..last time I was here. I wasn’t sure if you guys had any. I brought three types of cookies, I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer? There’s classic sugar, chocolate chip, and ginger bread men.” She’s pulled the foil off the ceramic tray, which is painted in red and white candy cane stripes, and Toni wastes no time in decapitating a ginger cookie.

“Damn, Betty Crocker! This might be the best cookie I’ve ever tasted,” Toni says, mouth full.

“Yeah, I’ve been…baking a lot.” The tension in her voice makes Toni cock her head and observe her solemnly.

“Not sleeping?” Betty shakes her head, eyes on the floor. “I hope you don’t mind...Jug told me what happened.”

“Ye-ah…,” Betty says, voice cracking, sounding sad and self-deprecating as she continues. “I’m not having the best few weeks. Either I’ve got nightmares about Jug dumping me for you, no offense, or I’m watching the Black Hood in a Santa suit killing my whole family. It’s ruined Christmas movies for me.”

“God, Betty. I’m really sorry. That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, I would’ve liked to have made it to 16 without knowing what it’s like to touch a dismembered human finger.”

Toni starts, wincing, and then pulls out a highball glass, a bottle of grenadine, and cherry vodka.

“That’s it”, she says. “You need a drink before we start on chores. And eat one of those cookies. You’re making me feel like a glutton. Or a Jones.”

When Betty hesitates, Toni arches her brow and looks at her shrewdly. “If your asceticism has anything to do with your overbearing mother and her opinions about proper nutrition, let me just remind you that you’re getting drunk in a biker bar before 5 pm. You’re already on her shit list if she finds out. Eat the cookie.”

“Except I’m not drunk.,” Betty notes, gingerly picking up an iced sugar cookie. 

Toni grins mischievously, pushing the highball glass, now full, towards her. “Not yet. We’ll start slow. It’s a Dirty Shirley Temple, but we’re all outta cherries.” She winks as Betty takes a tentative sip and hums approvingly.

“So where exactly does Alice Cooper think you are right now? Reading to the blind?”

“My friend, Veronica’s.”

“Ahhhh….I’ve heard stories. The Latina mob princess. I gotta ask...why aren’t you there instead?”

Betty flinches and downs the rest of her drink in one go. 

“Veronica ‘needs space.’ She’s still willing to cover for me, but she’s upset because I….kissed Archie the other night. Her boyfriend. Though they were broken up at the time. But still. Now they’re back together, and she’s….not pleased.”

“Holy shit,” Toni says, both brows high. “Making out with anyone not-Jughead doesn’t seem very on-brand for Betty Cooper.”

“That’s the thing, actually, it is very on-brand. Or at least it was, for the Betty I used to be. See, Archie’s been my best friend for as long as Jug has. It was the three of us like peas in a pod for a decade, and initially it was Archie I was pining over. I always thought it was going to be the two of us dating, eventually. The football player and cheerleader, prom court together. Then we’d grow up and get the white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a Labrador, that kinda thing.”

“Meh, the kid seems like he’s got the IQ of a football, but I guess I can’t blame you. I saw that imbecilic Red Circle video. He’s almost as cut as Sweetpea, and Sweetpea’s got, like, a 12 pack.” Betty lets out a startled laugh as Toni continues, “So where’d Jughead fit in?”

“Well, I told Archie how I felt last year, and he rejected me, and he starting falling for Veronica. And I was watching them together and seeing this spark that never really existed between Archie and me. And at the same time, Jug and I were investigating Jason Blossom and my sister’s disappearance, and my mom was being...my mom…and Jughead was just, really there for me.” Her voice has softened the longer she talks, and Toni hears an echo of what she privately calls Jughead’s “marshmallow voice.” 

“We started getting to know each other on this whole new level. Everyone else sees me a certain way, but inside...I know it sounds weird but...inside, I guess I always felt like an outsider. And Jughead understood that about me, and accepted me for who I was, who I am. Even the dark and ugly parts. And then he kissed me and…”

“Alright, I’m gonna stop you there. But I’m guessing that if you get this melty thinking about Jughead kissing you, you’re not holding a torch for the ginger jock.”

Betty laughs, as Toni pours more vodka into her glass and takes a shot for herself. “I don’t even know why I kissed him. We were chasing the Black Hood, and I was so terrified. And I felt so sad all the time, like Jughead didn’t want me anymore..I think I just wanted the comfort, and maybe I wished I could go back in time. That if Jug wasn’t gonna let me be a new, different Betty, I could go back and be the old one again.” She pauses to take another drink.

“But it didn’t work. It just felt empty.” Betty’s been stroking the back of her phone as they talk, but here she turns it over, looking, Toni knows, for a new notification from Veronica. 

“Yeah,” Toni says meaningfully. “I know the feeling….”

“Well, look” she continues. “I think you should tell Veronica to get the fuck over it. He was single, you were single...you were chasing a serial killer, for God’s sake! If ever there’s a time to get a pass for bad behavior, it’s when you’re getting body parts in the mail.”

“Besides,” she smirks, chomping on a cookie, “I’ve kissed all my goodlooking friends, male and female. Except, of course, for you. It’s no big deal!” Betty laughs, covering her mouth as though she has surprised herself by being amused about such a loaded subject. Toni checks the clock, curses, and then says, “Now come with me. The girls are gonna get here soon, and we gotta try on your new lipstick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dirty Shirley was an homage to the awesome dom!Betty serpent!jughead fic Shirley Temple ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Betty swallows the last of her sugar cookie, grabs her tote, and follows Toni down the hall to the brick red bathroom. The gray stalls are scratched up with words (“SOUTHSIDE REIGNS.” “A+F til death.” “cricket & ginger bff <3”, “dead men can’t catcall-this one’s 4 u Porkchop”) and the long rectangular mirror is defaced by old snake stickers and scribbly marker. Fortunately, there’s enough reflective space for Betty to see her face and some of her hair, and there’s a ledge beneath the mirror where she can set down her holographic pink cosmetics bag, a gift from Veronica. 

Toni hands her the stolen tube of Bewitching Burgundy, and Betty turns and says, “Thank you. Really.” in a soft voice. 

“No problem. Now go on, try it.” Toni insists, and so Betty obediently applies the lipstick. It’s darker than anything she’s ever worn. She rubs her lips together and thinks: Garish. This doesn’t suit a Cooper. 

But then, what is a Cooper anyway? (a Cooper is a Blossom. A Cooper is a killer.) 

Maybe this color suits Betty, who keeps a black bustier and a black wig and a black hood beneath her mattress. The Betty who Jug called “Nancy Drew meets Girl with a Dragon Tattoo.” 

Or maybe she isn’t exactly sure who Betty is yet. And maybe she won’t know until she’s miles away from her family, this town; she’ll just try things on until something sticks. Ignoring the twinge in her heart at the word, Betty squares her shoulders and fluffs her hair.

Toni taps her chin, and grins at her approvingly. “Nice!,” she says. “Now, I don’t mean to corrupt your aesthetic, but I thought it best if we obscure your Northside origins as much as possible before the others get here. They’ll know who you are, of course, but we don’t want them bludgeoned over the head with it. You got anything on underneath that sweater?”

Betty arches a brow. “You asking me for another stripshow?”

“I just thought we could do a little makeover. Isn’t that what girls do when they get together on the fancy side of town? Play dress up?” Her voice is a bit sharp, but Betty ignores it.

“I wouldn’t know,” she says, pulling off her gray sweater and tying it around her waist, revealing a thin gray cotton camisole with a lace neckline. “My first and only female friend was Veronica, and she only moved here a few months ago. I had my sister, of course. But she spent her free time outside the house whenever she could-not that I blame her. I always hung around with Archie and Jug, or helped my dad fix cars.” 

Now it’s Toni who’s looking surprised. “You’re not at all what you appear to be, are you? Well, who’d’ve thought two tomboys could grow up to be a such sexpots?” 

She smiles at Betty, who smiles back. 

Betty reaches into her bag for mascara. As she applies an extra coat, she knocks the bag over. Two orange bottles of fall out, clattering on the peeling tile. Betty freezes, wand still in her hand, other fist clenched, but Toni just swipes up the bottles and sets them on the ledge. “Should I ask?”

Betty inhales deeply and thinks, who cares, really? I’m half drunk in a biker bar, three days after facing down a serial killer. I’ve lost my boyfriend and maybe my best friends. Does it really matter anymore what I tell this prickly, irreverent, oddly kind girl, who has already seen me crying next to a dumpster?

 

She runs a hand through her hair and lets air out with a whoosh. “It’s Adderall and Klonipin. My mom forces them on me to ‘improve productivity.’I don’t even think I need them. I carry them with me because she counts the pills I have left to monitor my intake. And sometimes I just don’t want to be groggy or hyped up, you know?”

Toni looks at her for a long moment, her expression softer than Betty’s ever seen it. Then she nods to herself and says, “I can always sell the pills for you at Southside High, if you need some cash. Now, more importantly: do you identify more with Jesse Spano from Saved By the Bell or Corey Mason from Empire Records?”

Betty stares at her for a beat and then bursts into laughter. “Thanks, but I don’t need cash badly enough for you to shoulder that risk. I’d rather just give you my extras. And I want to say Jesse, but I’m going to go with Corey Mason.”

“Hmmm...yeahhhh, I see it. You ever think about buying a plaid miniskirt?” Betty giggles madly as Toni continues, “Seriously, though, there’s no judgment here, Betty. You know what we did this weekend while you were popping pills and chasing a serial killer? We cut a drug dealer’s tattoo off her arm.”

Betty’s brows furrow and for a moment she wonders if she’s drunk enough to be hearing things. “You what?”

“Penny Peabody. She was running drugs for the Ghoulies, blackmailing FP to help her. She betrayed the Serpents. So we kidnapped her and we scared her shitless. And when she tried to say that we couldn’t cross her because of the tattoo on her arm, we cut it off.”

Betty’s first thought is “holy fuck”-and Betty’s not the cursing type. She knows that “we” includes Jughead these days, though Toni will never admit it, and she struggles to reconcile the image she has of her boyfriend, soft eyes and gentle hands, with the man Toni describes. But she remembers how he launched himself at Chuck Clayton at that doomed birthday party. She remembers the darkness in his voice when he said, “I’ve got layers.”

Betty acknowledges to herself that many people would find her treatment of Chuck just as alarming as the Serpents’ treatment of Penny. Betty knows herself to be capable of great violence, and she’s coming to terms with the fact that perhaps everyone is, if pushed far enough. Violence is inescapable in Riverdale, where fathers shoot sons, and brothers kill brothers. Where school janitors garrotte teachers and terrorize students. Where rich men bankrupt poor men and then the poor men put guns in their mouths. She’s disturbed, but not as much as she would’ve been if she’d heard such a thing last year. It could be the vodka, but she thinks it’s just the Riverdale version of growing up. 

“Did it work?” she asks. Toni arches a brow, and smiles slightly, and Betty knows that if this was a test, she passed it.

“Yes,” Toni says, smile widening. “I think it did.”

“Anyway,” she continues, “my point is this: the Penny affair has upped the cred of the younger Serpent crew. As long as you’re associated with us, you should be ok. The girls might be bitchy at first, regardless, because they don’t like outsiders. You can handle it. You handled me just fine. But I’m going to introduce you as my friend, which will help. If pressed, I’ll call you Jug’s girl.”

“Won’t that upset him?”

“I doubt he’ll find out. And besides, you’re still Jug’s girl-or did I imagine all those passionate declarations the other night or the love letter in your phone case?”

Betty smiles ruefully, admitting defeat. She keeps the tag he attached to her Christmas present in her clear phone case, folded so the words Love, Jug face outwards. 

“I’m pretty pathetic, aren’t I?” She’s half-joking, but Toni looks contemplative. 

“Maybe,” she says. “But I’ve never seen anyone love like you love. Or like he does, as a matter of fact. You know it’s not normal, right?”

Betty looks a bit shamed. “What do you mean?”

“Just...the way you look at each other, like the whole rest of the world is moving in slow motion. Or the way you talk about each other, like you have to soften your voice because the other is so precious you can’t risk a bruise. No teenager I know acts like that. And when you’re together, it’s like he can’t keep his hands off you. Not in a sex way. More like...like he has to anchor you to him, because he can’t bear the thought of you gone. I just...I just don’t think you’re finished yet, if you still talk about each other like that. But what the fuck do I know.”

Betty’s got her head down while re-packing her makeup bag because she doesn’t want Toni to notice she has tears in her eyes (yet again). Part of her knows she should suppress the wild hope fluttering in her heart. It’d probably be healthier to trash the gift tag, delete his contact on her phone. But another, bigger part knows that Toni is right. They aren’t typical. And, masochistic as it may be, she’s not ready to let go.

Fortunately, just then, there’s laughter in the distance and the creak of the front door opening.

Toni grins, “They’re here. Try to keep in the background, especially if I bring up the serpent dance-or any Southside business, for the matter. Don’t worry, though.” She slings her arm over Betty’s shoulder. “You’ll win them over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon got so crazy in 2x09 that it’s messed with my girl talk flow! Anyway, hope this turned out ok-it was a CHALLENGE


	6. Chapter 6

The two girls pass the back office where FP is snoring, so Toni doesn’t bother stopping. Betty whispers, “He sounds exactly like an engine with an exhaust leak!” They’re laughing as they turn the corner to the front room. Toni takes Betty’s tote bag and turns it so the Santa-cat design is facing inwards.

A dozen Serpents have already made themselves at home. A pile of leather jackets hang off the arm of the couch, which Ginger has sprawled across with her head in Cricket’s lap. She’s excitedly showing the blonde something on her phone. Bridget Reilly is surveying the jukebox beside a few older women in jeans and band t-shirts (including, to Toni’s displeasure, Byrdie, who’s smoking and scowling already). Toni sighs, knowing she’s in for an hour of Joan Jett.

The barstools are taken by newly blue-haired Lottie Little and her band of recent Southside dropouts. Toni feels a stab of envy; Lottie’s a natural blonde and doesn’t need the bleach Toni requires to obtain her signature pink. Maria Rodriquez is behind the bar, lining up shot glasses with a gingerbread man sticking halfway out of her mouth. 

“You do know that we are on chore duty, right?” Toni asks with a grin. “Sweeping floors is not a drinking game.”

The opening bars of “I Don’t Give a Damn About My Reputation” fill the room as Maria replies, “Anything is a drinking game if you try hard enough. Who’s this, Topaz? Flavor of the week?”

“Oh, yeah, you missed FP’s party.” Toni says, waving her arm towards the blonde with a flourish. “This is Betty, she’s new. She did the dance then.” Betty smiles and waves at the girls, most of whom offer friendly greetings back. 

Maria moves her leather jacket from the bar stool and motions for Betty to sit, tossing it on the bar next to the rapidly diminishing pile of cookies. 

Toni shakes her head teasingly. “Now don’t get any ideas. The new girl is not for you. She’s into dick and only dick-I checked!” 

Maria screws up her face in brief disappointment and then nods, handing Betty a shot. Betty laughs and takes it.

“Now can we get to work, please, so we can fix this dump? I want the boring part over with so I can take all your money.” Lottie whines. 

“Yeah,” Toni says, “let’s do this.” Reluctantly, Cricket and Ginger approach the bar, catching the dishrags she’s tossed them. Byrdie’s pulling a broom out of the supply closet. Betty grabs the felt cleaner off the bar, looking far too eager.

Toni shakes her head. “Why do you look more into cleaning that pool table than you were into my Dirty Shirley?”

“I don’t know,” Betty shrugs. “I guess I just like fixing things. Besides, I’ve never cleaned a pool table before.” Toni feels a bolt of fondness.

“You are seriously twisted.”

In no time, the women are hard at work sweeping and mopping and scrubbing. Within a half-hour, Betty’s offering suggestions like a sweet-voiced sergeant, which the girls take because, well, they just don’t care that much about cleaning technique. An hour later, and the Whyte Wyrm is looking...about as good as a dive can look: the glasses are sparkling, the bottles are dust-free, the scratched bartop is gleaming with what was likely its very first polish. Toni makes the executive decision to call halt before Betty decides to alphabetize the liquor shelves, and she motions to Lottie. “Cards?” 

A few of the girls decide to head home; they have children or aging parents to take care of. Betty tears foil into strips to wrap the remaining cookies, and hands them to the women as they depart. Toni is happy to note that most seem charmed despite themselves. But she also knows that Bridge is about as tough a sell on newcomers as Sweetpea (to say nothing of Northsiders) and that Byrdie hates pretty much everyone. Then Toni has a thought that has her jerking in alarm.

She grabs Betty’s arm as the blonde takes a seat at the round table. “You know how to play poker, right?”

Betty nods, and Toni sighs in relief. “I learned from Archie’s dad when we were kids. It’s not high stakes though, is it? I don’t have any money to spare. I’m praying my mother doesn’t notice we have most of the cleaning supplies I bought in the garage already.” 

Toni taps her chin and then grins, “But you did bring currency.” She jogs over to the bar as Byrdie and Lottie debate the merits of Spit-in-the-Ocean versus Omaha 8. She comes back with a pill bottle from Betty’s tote, which she shakes questioningly. 

It takes a moment for Betty to understand the implication, but when she does she shrugs with a defiant grin and says, “Why not?”

————————————————————

The sun has set, and Toni is thinking that inviting Betty to this poker game is either the best idea she’s ever had or the worst one.

Because Betty Cooper is killing the Serpents at poker. 

She smiles at everyone, so unfailingly pleasant and mannerly that they cannot guess her hand through the mask of polite friendliness. Toni’s legitimately impressed, and she knows Lottie’s girls are too. They’re grinning and chattering with Betty like she’s an old friend-partly because the girl is just so kind and eager-to-please and partly because the offer of the pills softened them up (Toni mentally pats herself on the back for that particular stroke of genius). 

But Byrdie is chainsmoking and glowering at Betty’s rising pile of chips, and she insists upon calling Betty “Sweet Valley.” Betty ignores it, but it’s starting to grate on Toni. And Bridget Reilly is a notorious sore loser. She’s been known to overturn tables, and she nearly took Frankie’s one good eye out with a lit cigarette after his last win. Poor kid is still missing a bit of his eyebrow.

But Bridge is a sore loser who loves embroidery, so Toni turns to Betty and says, “We have to get your jacket ready. Medium, right?” Betty startles, and then nods tentatively. “You thinking the ouroboros or the double headed snake for the patch?” Betty’s brow furrows in confusion, and then Bridget is off, giving a long speech about the meanings and merits of both symbols and the comparative complexity of their designs. Betty’s leaning in, now, asking questions about floss brands and sewing machines (because of course, Toni thinks, amused, Betty Cooper knows all the major brands of embroidery thread). 

Between the voices and the guitar solo on the jukebox they don’t hear FP come up behind them until he says, meaningfully, to Bridget. “Betty gets a double-headed snake, like me and Jughead.” Toni watches the other women register this.

Betty, oblivious to the subtext, turns to greet him with a smile, “Hi, Mr. Jones.” and he leans down for a kiss on the cheek. “Betty. You know you can call me FP.” Then he notices the number of chips in front of her and barks out a laugh. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Alice was a sharp when we were young. She teach you?” 

“No, sir, Mr. Andrews taught me, Archie and Jug when we were little. Well, mostly me and Jug. Poker isn’t exactly Archie’s game.” 

“Aaah, of course. Fred’s good, but he’s no Alice. You come by it honestly, kid.” His voice is fond, and his brown eyes are warm. He pats Betty on the shoulder and heads behind the bar to open a bottle of whiskey, muttering “hair of the dog.” Betty looks briefly worried, but she’s too polite say anything about it in public. 

Toni leans back, satisfied. FP’s approval won’t win over the toughest, but it will definitely prevent Betty from getting jumped. Despite his frequent drunkenness, FP is well-liked and well-respected on the Southside. He’s shrewd and manipulative enough to handle himself, for all his boyish charm. He gets things done, he doesn’t shy away from trouble. And he keeps his mouth shut when it counts. 

Also, he’s an easy-going drunk; FP doesn’t rage or brawl like many of the other guys. And even though he’s handsome enough, in a scruffy sort of way, for the older crowd and even some of the younger to want him in their beds, he’s no womanizer. He’s gentle and chivalrous with the women, never making sexist jokes or bringing up the serpent dance after the fact to shame or discredit a girl. 

Toni’s heard stories that he never recovered from his first heartbreak, and Gladys taking a runner just ground him down further. FP’s pleasantly oblivious to any attempts to seduce him-much like Jughead tends to be-so he’s been able to spend decades hanging around the Wyrm without making enemies among the women. An accomplishment among such a hot-tempered crowd. 

The front door closes behind FP, and the game soon comes to a natural end. Betty, of course, is the winner. The ashtray on the other side of the table is piled high with lipstick-covered butts, but the vodka bottle is still half-full, so Toni knows the night is far from over. They’re all throwing bills on the table while Betty laughingly insists she won’t take their money when the door opens again.

“Hey, Toni, I wanted to return your copy of The Fact of a Body before…” Jughead stops short, looking so horrified that Maria jerks her head around as though she expects a dozen Ghoulies to be laying in wait behind her. 

“Betty?????!!!!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about poker, so please forgive any errors!
> 
> The reference to Betty rearranging the liquor cabinet was a nod to elegantmoonchild’s excellent fic Ouroboros. I’m not certain but I think she is also responsible for a meta about the different snake patches. The idea of the S patch being meaningful to the Jones boys was too good to pass up. 
> 
> Also, I just wanted to give an extra thank you to everyone who has commented! I’ve never written anything before (fanfiction or original fiction) so I’m going in blind, and it means a lot to hear what story elements or quotes you guys like. I’m never really sure what people will find funny or interesting.


	7. Chapter 7

Jughead is walking across the room so quickly that his suspenders shake. Betty’s hands go limp, and the bills in her hand fall onto the table. Her heart leaps at his presence, even as her stomach drops at the look on his face: he looks about as happy to see her here as Alice Cooper would be.

Jughead crouches beside her chair. “Betty, what are you doing? You can’t be here.” He rests his big hands on her shoulders, and Betty links her fingers together so that she won’t reach up and hold them. 

Distantly she hears Toni whispering something about “Jug’s girl” and “so. much. drama.” but Jughead doesn’t register anyone else, just stares at her intently, lips pressed together in worry

“Well, I...we were...playing poker?” She is unaccountably furious at the uncertainty in her own voice, but she’s dizzy with his nearness and words elude her. 

“Betts, you can’t just hang around the Whyte Wyrm!” 

“And why not?,” Toni interjects, a cutting sort of mischief in her voice. “She passed initiation. Why, she and FP already decided on her patch.”

“What? Wait…my dad…?” Jughead’s befuddlement irritates Betty enough for her to gather her thoughts-and her resolve.

“I’m not accountable to you for my whereabouts, Jughead.” Betty says firmly. “I wouldn’t be even if you hadn’t decided we were finished.” 

He rubs his palms over his face, then opens his mouth to speak. 

“Yeah, Jones, you don’t own her.” 

Betty and Jughead turn simultaneously to find Maria smirking at him, eyebrow arched in challenge. Jughead finally seems to notice their audience: Cricket, Lottie, and Ginger look positively riveted. Bridget is rolling her eyes, and Byrdie is ignoring them all entirely. Toni is shaking her head at him, her eyes saying: you damn fool.

“Let’s go somewhere and talk. Here.” he reaches for her palm, “come outside with me.” 

Betty swallows hard, and her voice is strained. “No, Jughead. I am not going out in that parking lot with you, not again.” 

Jughead sighs. Toni says, “The office is clear. You can talk it out in there.”

Betty stands reluctantly and walks toward the back, Jughead following, as the buzz of the girls’ chatter rises. She pulls open the door, holding it so Jughead can enter first. He hits the lightswitch as she closes the door and leans back against the wood. 

She won’t be left. This time, Betty will be the one who walks out first. 

There’s a moment of tense silence in which Betty surveys their surroundings. The centerpiece of the room is a maple desk, its water-ringed tabletop crowded with paper stacks, pens and coffee mugs. A bed pillow and green afghan have been haphazardly flung across a worn brown couch. There’s a metal filing cabinet in the corner; its bottom drawer is open wide enough for her to see stacks of green and white cardboard boxes labeled Remington. On top of the cabinet rests a cheap coffee maker, the plug dangling uselessly, and an American flag, folded into a triangle and framed. Someone has painted a mural on the back wall of a double-headed green serpent, and a rifle leans in the corner.

“Say what you have to say, Jughead.” All the subversive joy of the poker game is gone. Now she just feels jittery and miserable. 

“I said it already, Betts. I don’t want you at this bar. Or on the Southside. It’s not safe for you here.”

“Safe, Jughead?!” She lets out a crackling, furious laugh, and Jughead flinches away from the sound. “You want to talk to me about safe?! This is Riverdale! None of us is safe. Was I safe last week? When Svenson held a gun to my head? When I dug a grave for our best friend! Was I safe the week before? I was answering phone calls from a murderer while you were screening mine!” She takes a shaky breath. “Toni told me, Jug.” 

Jughead pulls off his beanie and worries it with his hands. 

“Betty, you can’t know, you can’t know how sorry…”

“He told me he was going to carve you up, Jughead. I thought-if I-if only I could keep you safe...and I still couldn’t bear to end it...I told Archie…” Betty lets out a sob, crossing her arms so her clenched fists are hidden in the crook of her elbows. 

“And I cried that whole night on my windowseat. I stayed there because...All I wanted was for you to come up that ladder and rescue me.” She shakes her head and laughs a little, mockingly. “Princess in the tower.” 

“And where were you, Jughead? Were you safe? No, you were running the gauntlet to join the Serpents, who are apparently too dangerous for perfect girl-next-door Betty Cooper. And then you were kissing Toni Topaz!” 

Jughead’’s eyes are wet now. He’s fisted his beanie in his hands, and he covers his face with the fabric for a moment. “Betty, I’m so sorry for that. It meant nothing, she was just there, and she kissed me, and I just needed someone and she was there. It didn’t mean anything, you have to know that. I just...I had nothing. You were gone and Archie was gone and my dad was gone…and I had nothing, Betty…and she was there. I don’t want her. I’ve never wanted her. I’ve never wanted anyone but you.” 

“I know, Jughead.” Betty says gently, uncrossing her arms. “I understand that much. But you lie to me, and you hide from me...” She shakes her head. “That’s not how love is supposed to work. And all to keep me safe? Keeping me safe is not in your power.”

“I had to. You’re a target on the Southside because of me. Penny said it specifically. You’re my soft underbelly.”

“But you took care of Penny, didn’t you?”

Jughead’s face loses all color. He looks the way he did when Sheriff Keller asked, “Then why did he confess?” Betty realizes suddenly that he’s frightened. He expects her to scorn him.

She reaches to cradle his cheek in one hand, and pushes back the black curl drooping over his forehead with the other. “Toni told me what you did to Penny, Jug. I understand. This is the world we live in now. There are things we have to do that we never could have imagined. Our parents can’t protect us, the Sheriff won’t...we have to protect ourselves, protect each other.” Her left hand falls to his leather-covered bicep, over his still-healing tattoo. 

“I support you. I still support you.” A tear falls onto his cheek, and she wipes it away. “I love you, Jughead.” He closes his eyes for a long moment, breathing in the echo of the words, and then he opens them again. 

“You know I love you, Betty.”

She searches his blue eyes and sees that love in them. But there’s no acceptance there. He isn’t reaching out to pull her body to his. He isn’t kissing her. And so she takes a large step back.

“Jughead, listen to me now. Listen to me. I’m done being told what to do. First my mother, then the Black Hood...it feels like this whole town is trying to control me, to tell me where I belong and who I belong with. Like I’m not a person, just some kind of symbol. Of Riverdale or innocence or God knows what else. Like I’m just a doll for them to move around the way they want.” She pauses for a long moment. 

“And you’re doing it too.” Her voice gentles. “The hardest part is...I understand. Because I did the same thing to protect you from the Black Hood. But that was wrong of me. I’ve realized that. I should’ve trusted you enough to choose and then respected your choices....I made a mistake. And now, Jughead, you’re making one.” Her eyes are filled with tears, but she is resolute.

“Betty…”

“I’m going to go now, Jug. I have to go, and I’m asking you not to follow me, OK? I think we’ve said enough for today.” She turns away, fumbling for the doorknob, and runs down the hall and into the restroom, slamming the door behind her. She hides in a stall and cries. For Jughead, for herself, for their love for each other that has become all feeling and no action.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually there’s a knocking sound. She drops her hands from her face and spots purple sneakers in the gap between the tile and the door. 

She stretches to unlock the stall, and Toni pulls it open. 

“So...I’m guessing it got messy back there?” 

“You could say that,” Betty sniffles. “God, I’m so tired of crying. I feel like I’ve been crying for 3 weeks straight. Like I can’t stop.”

Toni observes her for a long moment, eyes gentle. Then she nods curtly. “Alright. Challenge accepted.”

“Huh?” Betty asks, blowing her nose with a square of toilet tissue.

“No more crying. No more dwelling on Jughead Jones either. I promised him I’d make sure you made it home ok, but I didn’t say when. You have a ride back? It’s after dark, and you shouldn’t walk across town alone.”

“Um, my curfew is at 10. I haven’t figured out transportation yet.”

“How attached are you to your poker winnings?”

“I don’t care, really. Go ahead and take some to pay for the liquor I drank.”

“Alright. Perfect. Now go wash that mascara off your face and then find me.” She twirls around, shoes squeaking, and strides away.

————————————————

The bar has emptied by the time Toni returns to the front room. The only stragglers are Cricket and Ginger, looking like they lost their momentum halfway to the door: they have their Serpent jackets and wool scarves on, but they’re huddled on the couch sharing earbuds and bobbing their heads to a song. Toni takes a seat in the armchair across from them and leans forward, hands on her thighs. 

“So what is it you want, Toni?” Cricket asks with a sigh. “I know that look.”

“I need a favor.”

“No.” 

Toni waits. 

“No, I’m not giving you my car.”

“Look, I need a ride to Northside at quarter to 10. I can’t carry all these supplies on my bike, and I don’t have an extra helmet for Betty here anyway.”

“Hell, no, honey. You are not touching my precious baby.”

“I’ll give you $10 for gas money.”

There’s a moment of silence in which Ginger hums under her breath along with the music and Cricket’s mouth twists.

“$20.”

“$15.”

“Why, Toni Topaz, looks like this is your lucky day! Ginger and I are going to be craving Pop’s French fries at exactly 9:45 tonight.”

Toni laughs, shaking her head at the blonde. She takes two bills from Betty’s pile of poker winnings and drops them into Cricket’s lap. 

“Thanks from me and Betty! Now see you in an hour. Do not be late!”

Toni rolls the rest of the winnings and stuffs them in a wine glass, then locks the glass in a cabinet behind the bar. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Cricket winks, putting her earbud back in as Betty enters the room. Her eyes are rimmed red and her cheeks are blotchy, but at least the black mascara tracks are gone.

“Put your coat on, Betty.” Toni says, watching the blonde dress in her sweater, pale grey pea coat, and baby blue scarf. When Betty moves to pack up the cookie tray and cleaning supplies, Toni shakes her head. “You won’t need that yet.” Instead, she drops the half full bottle of vodka and 6 champagne glasses into Betty’s tote. Then, she shrugs into her Serpent jacket and covers her head with a black beanie. 

Betty, looking especially young with her face scrubbed clean and her giant earmuffs on, follows Toni to the storage room. There is something unnerving to Toni about her quiet submission. All the nascent rebelliousness of this afternoon seems to have left the building with Jughead Jones. But when Toni climbs over a crate to unlatch a high window, Betty rouses herself from her melancholic trance. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you out.” She pushes the tote bag out the window and to the side before boosting herself through. Once she’s securely on the other side, she sticks her head back in, reaching an arm out towards Betty.

“Come on, it’s stable. It’s the roof of the garage at the back of the Wyrm. No one can see us, either, because we face Fox Forest.”

Betty squares her shoulders and takes Toni’s hand, climbing onto the crate and sliding through the window with all the grace befitting a cheerleader. 

“How’d you find this place?” Betty asks, looking up in open wonder at the stars sparkling in sharp relief against the black sky. The only other light comes from the window behind them. Besides a few far-off shouts and the thump-thump-thump of the reggaeton from Frankie Valdez’s trailer, it’s quiet. Toni takes a long pull from the vodka bottle, then offers it to Betty, who takes a delicate sip that ends up spilling. She scrunches up her nose, and Toni reaches out to wipe her chin.

“A few of the older Serpent girls showed me. The window’s pretty small, you know? So only kids and smaller women can make it out here.”

“Like a clubhouse within a clubhouse...” 

“Exactly.”

There’s always been something delicious about it to her, being high over the boys’ heads and out of their reach. Sure, Toni can handle herself (Porkchop learned that the hard way). All the Serpent girls can. But sometimes it’s nice not to have to. She likes having a place where she can watch the sunset in the quiet, while Ginger French braids her hair. Where she can drink lime-a-ritas or pink wine without the boys busting her chops for being such a delicate flower. Up here, she doesn’t have to spend a quarter-hour arguing with Tall Boy to get Rihanna on the jukebox, she just presses play on her phone and all the girls whoop and dance. And there’s something sweeter and freer in their dancing, in this place where there’s no old men leering and no unsolicited grinds.

“Look, I was barely 14 when I joined up. And this gang is a boy’s club, first and foremost. We needed a safe place where we could just...get a break. I wasn’t prepared for what it’s like to be a teenage girl around so many grown men all the time. I don’t think any of us are.”

“So what is it like?”

Toni scoffs a little. “Can’t you guess?”

“Did something...happen?” Betty asks delicately, green eyes wide.

“Nah, not that. But dirty jokes. Unsolicited opinions about what parts of my body they like and dislike, as if I give a single fuck. Occasional groping. It’s strange, you know, they talk sometimes as though the initiation is a regular striptease. But the serpent dance isn’t for fun or for pay. It’s meant to be a sacrifice, just as much as the gauntlet is. It’s about vulnerability, willingness to give.” She takes another drink. “And I just don’t think that the female initiation should equate that kind of vulnerability with sex. It warps how the guys view us. And I think it warps how we view ourselves, which is maybe even worse.”

“I totally see that. It’s strange...I didn’t really think about any of this before I did it. I didn’t even register how weird it all is.”

“Well, neither did I, to be fair. Besides, you weren’t offering your body to the Serpents so much as you were offering it to Jughead in a grand romantic gesture. Let’s be real. It’s just as public but...the implications are different.”

“Have you made any headway in getting it banned?”

Toni lights a cigarette. She silently offers it to Betty, who declines with a small shake of her head. “No. I only told them about your mom’s threat tonight. We’ve been so busy dealing with Penny Peabody, you know? Of course everyone besides Byrdie agrees that the dance is outdated (the internalized misogyny in that woman is extreme, lemme tell you) but they’re not willing to bring it up again for a vote. They think it’s inevitable that we lose. And they’re afraid of pushing too hard in case there’s backlash. It’s demoralizing. And it’s fucking infuriating….” She stubs out the cigarette aggressively. “Which brings me to the whole reason I brought us out here.” 

Toni pulls two champagne glasses from the tote and hands one to Betty. “Do you know what I like to do when I feel like this? Like I’m powerless in the world, like things are never going to get better for me-or for all the other girls like me? When I can’t control anything about my life?”

“What’s that?” 

Toni grins devilishly and struts to the ledge. “I break shit.” She puts on a show, like she’s pitching a baseball, and throws, turning just in time to savor the sight of Betty’s jaw dropping at the sound of shattering crystal. “Now you try.”

“No, no, no,” Betty says. “That’s the bar’s property. It’s not right for me to mess with it.” She’s looking properly scandalized, and Toni is briefly annoyed (fucking fragile, uptight Northsiders) before she remembers that this particular Northsider has been toe-to-toe with a serial killer.

“Betty, come on! It’s a cheap champagne glass that they only own because it came in a mixed barware set. I guarantee it won’t be missed: as far as I know, no one’s ever even ordered a glass of champagne at the Whyte Wyrm. And if they did, I’m positive they’d be perfectly happy drinking it from the bottle.” The image of giant Sweetpea swanning around with a delicate glass of bubbly in his hand is so absurd it makes her laugh.

Betty continues to shake her head. Toni huffs. “Fine, if it bothers you that much...I promise to set aside a twenty from your poker winnings to replenish any lost crystal.

Then she puts her arm on Betty’s shoulder, brown eyes serious. 

“But let me level with you here. You’re wound up tighter than a clock, girl. You’re a ticking time bomb. It’s no wonder you’re crying all the time. Anyone would cry, if they’d been dealing with all this shit: ex boyfriends and mothers and serial killers, for God’s sake... You need to let it out or you’re going to spontaneously combust. If your idiot ex was anyone other than Jug, sure, I’d recommend something else. A solid right hook to the side of his head, maybe, or a night in bed with Sweetpea (I’ve heard the boy deserves the Olympic gold in eating pussy, and he’s so taciturn you can trust he won’t gossip after). But your idiot ex happens to be Jug, so I’m offering you another outlet.” She gestures towards the ledge expectantly. 

Betty takes a deep breath and tiptoes to the ledge, looking at the velvety treetops, shadows upon shadows in the distance. She squares her shoulders and flings the glass into the endless dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing emotions is hard (crazy canon makes it harder). Hope this chapter turned out ok! Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you like/dislike and if there’s anything you’d like to see more of!


	8. Chapter 8

By 9:30, Betty has demolished five crystal flutes as well as a vodka bottle, each one with increasing gusto. Toni’s been regaling her with her own colorful methods of dealing with rejection (literally colorful: she once spray painted an ex’s motorcycle pink) while Betty laughs in scandalized delight. A tinkling from Betty’s phone signals the approach of curfew, and Toni scoffs “Your ringtone sounds like a fairy talking to a fucking unicorn!” as she turns to pull open the small window.

Betty is surprised to find that the tension that’s been her near-constant companion in recent weeks has dulled to something manageable. The strange peace persists through the rushed packing of her things and the ride home-despite Cricket’s lead foot and Ginger’s tone-deaf singing to Carly Rae Jepsen on the radio. Betty asks Cricket to park a block south of Elm Street. She doesn’t want her mother to notice her getting out of an unfamiliar cherry-red sedan.

When she steps through the front door, the lights are on, but the house is quiet. Betty washes the candy cane platter by hand instead of putting it in the dishwasher, placing it at the back of the cabinet so her mother won’t see it and start another lecture about Betty’s excessive sugar consumption. She tiptoes upstairs, carefully dodging the creaky floorboard, and slinks into her bedroom. Once the door is safely locked, she tucks her poker winnings inside a hollowed-out hardcover of The Odyssey (a Pinterest diy that’s proven unexpectedly useful this year) and readies herself for bed. 

As soon as she’s under the pink comforter, she falls asleep. She sleeps for seven hours, uninterrupted, and she does not dream.

—————————————

The next morning, Betty awakens at 9:15, refreshed, to the sound of her father knocking on her bedroom door. He peeks his head into her room and suggests she join him in the garage today, check out his new tools. This will be a good day, Betty decides. A peaceful day. 

Of course, as she should’ve expected, her mother torpedoes that plan shortly after sitting down to breakfast. 

In a voice dripping with derision, Alice orders her husband to rewrite his latest op-ed, which she declares is “both asinine and bland.” She stabs her fork in her husband’s direction, and tells him, “Get to work immediately, Hal. I mean it. I’ll need time to look over it tonight. Don’t you dare dawdle.” 

Somehow unruffled, Hal continues sipping his coffee for several more minutes before making his retreat to the home office. In the silence, Betty dejectedly stirs her fruit and yogurt parfait, and waits for her mother to turn her attention to her (usually by this time in the morning her mother has critiqued Betty’s posture at least once)

But Alice leaves shortly after her husband, citing nonspecific “errands.” She warns Betty, “Be good and stay away from that degenerate ginger boy” as she walks out the front door.

Not for the first time, Betty marvels at the tense alliance that is her parent’s marriage. Collaborating on the school paper with Jughead only made her more aware of how dysfunctional they are. Hal and Alice are an effective team when they can direct their mutual spite against some unfortunate third party, but without a common enemy, their partnership is a begrudging thing, weakened by years of resentment and vitriol.

Betty and Jughead worked together as much for the pleasure of each other’s company as for a common investigative goal. Sure, they critiqued each other’s writing: Jughead often complained that her red pen usage exceeded that of the entire collective teaching staff of Riverdale High. But she knew he secretly appreciated that she read his work so closely. An undercurrent of sincere mutual admiration was always there. To Betty, the Blue and Gold office was a rare place for softness in their sharp-edged town. 

Since her afternoon is now, unfortunately, free, Betty texts Kevin to invite him over. She showers and dresses (grey leggings, a blue Riverdale High athletics sweatshirt, and fuzzy socks with penguins on them), then checks her phone. Still no response.

For a moment, Betty considers calling Veronica. She doesn’t want to intrude, especially if her presence still causes Veronica pain. At the same time, she wants to make sure the brunette knows how much she values their friendship. But then she spots the perfect hourglass of a woman’s silhouette through Archie’s bedroom window, and so she closes her blinds to give them some privacy instead.

Betty takes a seat at her white desk, which is decoupaged with hummingerbirds and pastel flowers, and opens her laptop to log into Facebook. At the very top of her feed is a photo of Kevin. He’s pouting dramatically next to a sign for the Greendale Rod and Gun Club, and has captioned the photo: “only guns I like are *flexing bicep emoji* #nocuteboyshere #onlyoldmen #rescueme” Clearly, the Sheriff is on one of his fatherly bonding kicks. She won’t hear back from Kevin until tonight. 

She’s heartened to see that Veronica has tagged her in a post, a listicle called “Puppies See Snow For the First Time” (@BettyCooper the baby golden retriever is you *heart eyes*). Archie’s also tagged her, in a brief Buzzfeed video about bacon-wrapped mozzarella sticks, which is Archie-speak for “please cook this for me.” She figures this means they are on their way to forgiving her for the ill-advised kiss, and the rush of relief she feels is startlingly intense. With everything else going on in her life, she hadn’t realized how much Veronica’s anger weighed on her. 

Her cursor hovers over the corner x for a moment before she shakes her head and types “Toni Topaz” in the search bar. Toni is the first result-to her surprise, they share a number of friends, including, oddly enough, Chuck Clayton. In her profile picture, Toni stands before a pink-orange sunset. Her wavy hair is the same pale pink as the sky, and her eyelids and lips are painted to match. She is wearing a black top, about nine-tenths mesh, that seems to defy the laws of gravity. Her cover photo is a black motorcycle leaning against a grafitti-covered wall. The centerpiece of the mural is an enormous red-eyed serpent and the words, “In Unity, There is Strength.” Betty clicks “Add Friend.”

Betty sighs and resigns herself to a day home alone. She knows she needs to keep herself busy somehow, or she’ll start to dwell on the state of her life; that can only lead to another wasted afternoon crying and listening to sad songs by Angel Olsen. She’s already finished all of her assigned homework and she’s reread all the books in her library at least three times, so she logs into Netflix, figuring that binge-watching TV is her best chance of distraction. She uses Archie’s account instead of the Cooper account so that her mother can’t judge her viewing choices.

Jughead must also be using the Andrews account: the recently watched list includes Mind Hunter, Inglourious Basterds, and Rear Window. Betty remembers the tenderness in his voice when he called her “my own Hitchcock blonde,” feels a stabbing pain in her chest, and logs out in a hurry. 

She logs back in using the Cooper username and clicks on the first thing she sees: Bring It On. The movie picks up at minute 23, where Polly must have left off, but she doesn’t rewind. In a strange sort of way, it makes her feel like they are watching it together. 

For a while, it’s an effective escape, but soon the onscreen love story between the perky blonde cheerleader and the dark-haired outsider starts to hit too close to home, and she feels tears pressing behind her eyelids. Well, Betty thinks, movies are out. 

Then, she remembers: she may not have homework, but there is another project she can work on. 

She clicks on the link to the Google homepage and types: stripping adult entertainment law New York State

——————————————-

Toni wakes up at noon. There was a cold snap last night and her fringed grey blanket is threadbare, but she’s warm and cozy: there is a fluffy sheepdog sleeping wedged against her back. He has his head on her ankle, and he’s making snuffling sounds as he dreams. The days when Hot Dog visits are her favorite-and not just because he is an excellent bed warmer. Her uncle can’t be bothered with tending to an animal, so he lets her stay as long as she takes over dog walking duty. 

She reaches over to the nightstand to check her phone to find a text from Sweetpea asking if she needs a place to crash after the Serpent party tomorrow. Fangs has sent several messages to the group chat for the younger Serpents, describing last night’s hookup in pornographic detail. She’s certain at least half of it is made up. The sultry redhead from Tinder has messaged “hi *kissy face emoji*“, and Toni refers back to the girl’s photo so she can savor the sight of those luscious red lips.

There’s also a new Facebook friend request-from Betty Cooper, which Toni accepts immediately. In her profile photo, Betty looks especially wholesome. She’s wearing a pink blouse and high ponytail, and clutching a cornfed blonde. This can only be her sister, Polly, the pregnant almost-widow of Jason Blossom, whose death caused so much trouble for the Serpents. Toni snorts, because Polly is wearing a headband with an honest-to-God pink bow on it, like some kind of life-sized porcelain doll. Betty’s cover photo is a group shot of the River Vixens cheerleading squad mid-routine. Betty is smiling at the bottom of the pyramid.

There are also 15 new Facebook messages, all from Betty. Toni has a moment of panic (Something is wrong: Ghoulies spotted Cricket’s car last night and forced it off the road, Penny Peabody came after her as a message for Jughead) until she realizes most of the messages are actually links. 

There are links to obscure portions of the state penal code regarding “sexually oriented businesses.” There are links to news stories describing a recent stripper’s strike in New York City, and there are links to several adult entertainment worker unions and sex worker advocacy groups. She scrolls up to find the earliest messages:

Betty: Hi! I hope you don’t mind me messaging you here! I did not want to inundate you with texts just in case you have a limited data plan like I do. I was brainstorming about the Serpent Dance and thought I would do a little research. I hope this helps! 

Toni is both grateful and a bit aggravated. On the one hand, she appreciates Betty’s eagerness to help, especially since, now that she and Jug have split, Betty could easily wash her hands completely of Southside business. After all, doing so would certainly improve her relationship with her mother- though Toni doubts even constant obedience guarantees peace and harmony with Alice Cooper. 

On the other hand, she’s frustrated by Betty’s naïveté. Betty doesn’t understand that the Serpents are outlaws, not just in practice but in spirit. Though most members started out marginalized against their will, at the whim of larger social forces, they learn to take pride in living on the margins. The threat of legal action on its own is never enough to deter Serpents from doing what they want. 

And there’s no stripper solidarity at the Whyte Wyrm. The women consider themselves Serpents before they consider themselves women. They don’t acknowledge that the strippers and the men who exploit them could be on opposite sides.

In unity, there is strength.

Suddenly irritated, Toni huffs and climbs out of bed, making Hot Dog grunt in consternation. She stomps into the kitchen, grateful to find that her uncle Roberto has left for the day. There’s hot coffee in the pot, but when she pours, she finds that there’s only enough to fill the mug halfway. She curses her uncle under her breath, and then, when she finds no fresh milk in the fridge, curses him again. She uses the evaporated stuff for her coffee, and eats the stale store-brand cereal dry. 

Then she heads into the dreary little bathroom to shower. Though the water pressure is weak and the green color of the tile reminds her uncomfortably of mold, the feeling of water on her skin calms her. 

Maybe, she realizes, what she needs is to do reframe the meaning of unity. After all, the gang turned against Penny because she was hurting her Serpent brothers for selfish gain. In Toni’s view, the dance is a betrayal of the gang’s female members for the sole benefit of male members. Besides, every major event features new recruits on the pole, so the pros are denied the chance to showcase their skill and make some tips.

Toni decides that the the year-end meeting is her chance. The meeting, in which members sum up the year and make suggestions for future gang business, is the most well attended of the year, because it is immediately followed by the extremely debauched Whyte Wyrm New Year’s Eve party. 

She’s going to make it happen, this time. This is going to work. 

She dresses in oversized black sweatpants, a red and black flannel, her Serpent jacket, and black combat boots. Then she whistles for Hot Dog. As he trots happily towards the door, she sends two text messages. 

To Betty, she writes: do u have nye plans? could use an ally at the meeting at the wyrm. could also use an editor. btw thx for the articles 

To Bridget, she writes: will betty’s jacket be ready in time for tomorrow’s meet? really need it by then. we will make it worth ur while

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter. Betty listening to angel Olsen when she feels mopey is a reference to the gorgeous onceuponamirror fic hearts rise above. let me know what you think/what you want more of or less of! Thanks so so much for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Betty is buttering a blueberry muffin when she hears the ring of the bell on Pop’s front door. She looks up eagerly, but it’s only Mr. and Mrs. Muggs, who stop to greet her with nods and fond “how are ya’s.” She smiles, offering her usual responses (“Yes, school is going well, yes, I’m excited to work on the spring dance committee with Ethel. I’ll be sure to pass along your well-wishes to Mom and Dad.”). 

They examine her face closely as she speaks, which means they’ve heard about her encounter with Svenson. They must notice her pallor and the bruises under her eyes. (Last night’s dream featured a hooded man dropping into her room on the Times Square New Years Ball.) But the Muggs pretend that nothing is awry, and she pretends not to notice the unnatural speed at which they flee to their booth when the bell rings again and Veronica Lodge saunters in.

Veronica is elegant in a maroon wool cape with three decorative gold buttons-as usual, she looks to Betty like a movie star who’s accidentally wandered onto the wrong movie set. Yet as incongruous as she seems in small town environs, Betty can no longer imagine Riverdale without her.

Veronica places her order with Pop at the counter before approaching the booth where Betty awaits her. She unbuttons her cape, revealing what counts as casualwear for a Lodge: a half-sleeved burgundy sweater with an eyelet neckline, a black A-line skirt, black tights and matching heeled ankle boots. She says nothing as she takes a seat across from Betty, just stares challengingly, with one dark brow arched, so Betty takes a deep breath and begins.

“I wanted to clear the air between us..about Archie.” 

She pauses until Veronica motions imperiously for her to proceed, then continues, “I shouldn’t have kissed him. I knew he was-he is- in love with you. And I just wanted to make sure you know, V: I’m happy about that, I truly am. I think the two of you are great together. I’m not jealous. I love Jughead, even if we aren’t together, and I don’t want Archie that way. I don’t even think of him like that, anymore-romantically or“ she scrunches her nose “sexually.” She pauses and takes a sip of her tea.

“I can’t explain it except to say...everything was so terrifying and intense, with the Black Hood, and Jughead moving to Southside, and I was feeling so out of control. I think...I think I wanted to go back in time. Archie and Jughead...they were the first people-besides my sister- to ever make me feel loved and safe. I guess I just wanted to somehow recapture that feeling. I’m so sorry, Veronica. It was a mistake. I hate myself for hurting you.”

Veronica’s face softens as Betty speaks, and she finally reaches a manicured hand across the table. “Oh, B. Of course I forgive you. I know you aren’t anything like those mean girls at Spence, who schemed to steal my boyfriend just to prove they could. Even if you had been, you’d be giving me my just deserts...I don’t exactly have the moral high ground when it comes to kissing boys my friends like.” She smiles ruefully. “But it’s not...easy for me, to see you and Archie together sometimes. You have all of this history I’m not part of, that I’ll never be part of.” 

Veronica chuckles wryly. “I know you haven’t been pining for Archie all this time. What you feel for Jughead is too...immense, for that to be true. But I admit, I did daydream about putting Nair in your shampoo when you opened your Secret Santa gift.”

Betty laughs. “Veronica...Archie and I know each other’s childhoods, that’s true, but we don’t see the future in each other. I mean, that gift was a gift for 8 year old Betty. And I loved it, just like I love having a friend who remembers 8 year old Betty, and who sees that little tomboy in me. I think we’ll always be those kids to each other. But I’m not that Betty anymore.”

They pause to smile at Pop as he sets a tall glass of orange juice, black coffee, omelette, and toast onto the table. 

Then Betty says, solemnly, “That’s what was so incredible about being with Jughead. I felt like he saw me, clearly: who I was, who I am now, and who I’m becoming. And that he loved all the new parts of me even more than he loved the old ones. But…who knows anymore” she finishes dejectedly.

“What exactly is going on with Jughead? Archie told me he helped him with some kind of drug delivery for the Serpents? From what I’ve heard it sounds like he’s going full dark, no stars.”

So Betty tells Veronica what she’s learned: the extent of Jughead’s entanglement with the Serpents, what happened between him and Toni Topaz, all of the things he hid from her. She describes their confrontation outside the Whyte Wyrm, and finally their argument in the bar office. 

By the time she’s finished, Veronica is muttering what sound like Spanish curses on “Torombolo” under her breath. “How dare he treat my girl so shabbily? That boy is in dire need of a wake-up call. Or an exorcism, because he is acting decidedly possessed. I’m so sorry, B. You deserve so much better than this.”

Betty sighs, “I’ve realized..there’s nothing else I can do, to prove myself. He should know by now that I can take care of myself. And that I won’t turn away from him, even if he does go full dark. We’ve all made mistakes. But we don’t abandon each other, just because it’s dangerous or hard.”

“Hear, hear,” Veronica says, lifting her glass of orange juice. “Well, you know I’ll always be there for you, B. And part of being there for you is telling you when you’re not looking like your usual bright eyed and bushy-tailed self. You need a bit of pampering, especially after….everything. 

“I have the perfect solution. Why don’t you come back to the Pembrooke with me? You can take a nap in my room-we just had new Frette bedlinens imported from Italy, I’m telling you, it’s like sleeping on a cloud! Then we can get ready for the party together! I’m assuming the Coopers will be joining the Lodges at Mayor McCoy’s New Year’s Eve gala, so there will be no parental interference should you decide to join me and my Archiekins at Reggie Mantle’s soirée.”

“I’d love to, V, but I actually have to meet Toni here soon”

“Toni...Toni Topaz!?” Veronica cries incredulously. “What, you’re just going to share a milkshake with the girl who kissed your boyfriend?” 

Betty half-smiles, letting the silence stretch.

“Okay, fine.” Veronica huffs, “Let’s forget I said that. But you must explain what, exactly, you have to discuss with that off-brand Minaj.”

“We’re actually becoming...kind of friends? After Jughead... broke up with me, I was stuck at the bar and Toni drove me home. We sort of clicked, in a strange way. She’s...well, nice is the wrong word. She’s too prickly for that. But she’s kind, and I like her.”

“She wants to ban the serpent dance, so I’ve been helping her out. I’m going to meet her here and help her edit her speech. And then I have to make an appearance at the Whyte Wyrm for the Serpent meeting at 8, just in case they hold a vote”

Veronica eyes her uneasily. “Are you like, a Serpent now? Even though you and Jughead aren’t together?”

“Well, not exactly. Let’s say I’m Serpent-adjacent. I mean, I still want to have a foothold on the Southside, because I love Jughead and he is my second-oldest friend. That won’t change, whether we are dating or not. I will always want to know what’s going on with him and I will always help him and his dad however I can-even if nowadays, that means helping the Serpents. But this, this is for Toni and the girls. I want to help them make things more equitable. For future members.”

Veronica sighs, “...I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve befriended her. After all, you befriended me, despite the debacle at Cheryl’s party last year. How about this? Why don’t you come over once you two finish prepping your takedown of the patriarchy? Just text me and I’ll have the new driver bring you to the Pembrooke. He can drop you off at that bar in time for the big meeting, and if you decide to come to Reggie’s afterwards, I can send him back to pick you up.”

Betty smiles warmly. “Thanks, V. That sounds perfect. It’s a date.” 

“Besides, if there’s any chance you’re seeing Jughead tonight, it’s my duty as your best friend to make sure you look to-die-for.” She smiles and claps her hands eagerly. “I have a dress that I promise will make him fall to his knees and beg. It’s a pale silver Badgley Mischka. Subtle sequins, very subtle, only at the collar, waist, and hem, just enough to be fitting for the holiday. It’s far too long on me, so it’s perfect for someone leggy like you. And it has a high neck halter, so you can show off those toned shoulders of yours. ” 

Betty laughs, suddenly overwhelmed with affection for her generous friend. “Thanks, V. But I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to wear Badgley Mischka to a biker bar.”

“That’s ridiculous! In the wise words of Oscar Wilde: you can never be overdressed or overeducated.”

The bell rings again to signal the arrival of Toni Topaz, who strides confidently towards them despite the heads turning anxiously in her wake. She has her Serpent jacket on and a second leather jacket in her hands, which she tosses in Betty’s lap.

“Well, I must be off,” says Veronica, stepping out of the booth, “I’ll see you later, B.” She leans over to kiss Betty on the cheek as Toni slides into the seat she just vacated, and the two brown-eyed girls eye each other warily. 

Toni takes a hearty bite of Veronica’s abandoned toast as Betty chirps, “Morning!” and pulls a canary yellow notebook from her cognac leather purse. “I brought this to take notes. Usually I craft my speech on paper first, because I read a study once that compared typing and writing by hand, and they found that writing things out by hand makes them easier to memorize. But I don’t know your process...do you have a preference?”

Toni laughs, “My process is: open mouth, let words come out. This is the first time I’ve ever sat down and planned a speech. But last year I got fucking demolished by hecklers. So it’s time for something different.” 

Betty grins and tightens her ponytail. “Then let’s try it my way.”

——————————————————————

Betty’s way, Toni reflects several hours later, actually works. An hour with her red pen and she has shaped Toni’s ideas into a cohesive argument. She’s even helped her put together the skeleton of a business plan. Betty has a precise and systematic way of problem solving which complements her own more spontaneous approach well. Still, she must admit that they are kind of an odd couple.

Case in point: beneath her leather jacket Toni is wearing a tight black minidress with ties all the way up the sides. Her hair is in loose waves and she’s applied eyeliner as heavy as warpaint. Betty, on the other hand, has her blonde locks blown straight. Her makeup is subtle, except for her dark red lips, and she wears a silvery dress better suited for a movie premiere than a night in a biker bar. Toni made sure to give Betty her jacket earlier so that Betty wouldn’t stick out at the Whyte Wyrm, but she’s doomed to attract attention in that getup. The sparkles on her skirt reflect the neon lights onto the snake tank like a disco ball.

Fortunately, the dress is something of a sensation among the girls, and so she’s protected from the crowd by Cricket, Ginger, and Lottie, who compliment her while she fidgets self-consciously, pulling on the bottom of her dress. Because she’s in the center of a huddle, she hasn’t spotted Jughead, who is nursing a beer and staring at her moodily from across the room. 

Toni heads over to him, deciding to nip this in the bud. She pulls out the chair next to him and sits. 

“You’ve gotta get over it, Jug.”

He scowls at her, “Get over what?”

“Oh!” she laughs incredulously, “Did you actually think you were being subtle!? You can’t keep your eyes off Nancy Thompson redux over there. You’re the one who threw her away-literally, by the way, since I found her next to the dumpster. You no longer have any say in where she goes or what she does. And she’s here tonight for me, so I need you to keep your mouth shut. Do not cause a scene.”

Jughead furrows his brow and readjusts his beanie. “What’s happening at the meeting?”

“You’ll see. But you’re going to vote yea to my proposal. You owe me, Jug.”

“You know I’m always on your side, Toni.” He sighs. “It’s hard for me to see her like this. She doesn’t belong here.” 

“Well, she’s here now, whether you like it or not. And it’s a safe bet she’s sticking by the Serpents for as long as you are. So are all your Northside friends, for that matter. I mean, you had the ginger vigilante running drugs with you! They are more devoted to you than I ever thought they’d be, and instead of sulking about it, you should be fucking grateful. But to be honest, Jughead, I don’t give a fuck about the latest episode in your CW drama. Just don’t scare her away before she votes.”

“Fine, I promise.” 

Behind them, the room has filled with Serpents, laughing and drinking and roughhousing, and she stands and jostles her way through the sea of black leather to find a place at the center of the circle. 

FP calls the room to order, and the meeting starts as it always does: with one of FP’s classic sentimental toasts about the meaning of brotherhood. Then a few of the older boys pat themselves on the back for their recent successes, and Sweetpea interjects to brag about the Penny Peabody takedown, about as effusive as he ever gets. FP flinches at the raucous applause, and Jughead lifts his chin, defiant. This of course leads to grumbling about the Ghoulies, with a fair share of the crowd muttering threats and Tall Boy’s crew glaring resentfully at the Joneses on the other side of the room. 

Before the meeting degenerates into a debate over the merits of a gang war, Toni climbs onto a chair, puts two fingers in her mouth, and whistles.

“Before we talk about the Ghoulies, I have something to say about the Serpents,” she says, in a strong, clear voice, as the group settles.

“FP talked a few moments ago about brotherhood, but we aren’t just a brotherhood. We are a sisterhood too. And the Serpents are not doing right by their sisters-not as long as we have young girls proving their loyalty with the Serpent Dance.”

The crowd shifts uneasily, and grumbling starts from Tall Boy’s side of the room.

“Now, I know it’s tradition. But there comes a time when you have to let go of old ways. A lot of us join at 13, 14 years old. I’m sure I’m not the only one in this room who thinks the only person who should want to see a 13 year old naked is another 13 year old.” There are some nods of agreement, especially among the women, and some mumbles of “feminazi” and “killjoy.” Hogeye shouts, sarcastically, “So you think the girls are gonna run the gauntlet instead?”

“No” she says in a sardonic voice, “of course I’m not encouraging a 13 year old girl to take on Sweetpea’s knuckledusters. But there are other ways to prove ourselves. The snakebite. We could even be jacked in.”

“Why you gotta be so uptight, Topaz? You’d think a girl who licks as much pussy as you would have more appreciation for girls on the pole.”

“Oh, I’ve got no problem with the pole, Porkchop-but only when it leads to consensual sex-or a payday. Go ahead, put up a sign that says Girls Girls Girls in neon lights. But it’s gotta be our choice, women’s choice.”

At this there’s a cacophony of cheers (largely female) and boos (largely male.)

“Hell, no! I ain’t paying to see tits and ass when I can get it for free from the recruits!”

“So because you’re a cheap son of a bitch you’re gonna stiff your sisters? So just fuck unity, huh? We got Serpent girls driving all the way out to the The Landing Strip in Centerville so they can make a buck. And you think you deserve it for free? Have them work the occasional stripper night here, officially. The girls will run the books to make sure we get our proper dues. And you’ll still get your T&A. Come on, boys, wouldn’t you rather see a pro put on a show anyway?” 

The crowd is getting louder and more excited. From across the room, she sees Betty smiling proudly. From the corner of her eye, she sees FP is smiling too. 

“I know what this is!” Tall Boy shouts angrily. “This is you and the Joneses, trying to get distance from the drug business so you can undermine me! You wanna replace jingle jangle with the girls, and you wanna cut me out of the profit!”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Tall Boy? This has nothing to do with you. This is for the girls. You think I can’t have a fucking idea on my own?”

“What I think is that you’re fucking the little Prince.” She sees both Betty and Jughead flinch. “You’ve been attached at the hip since before he ran the gauntlet, and you back whatever he says. Though wait a minute...didn’t I spot him groping the leggy blonde who took the pole at FP’s party? Do you take turns? Or does he fuck you both at once?”

Jughead moves to launch himself at Tall Boy, but Sweetpea and Fangs pulls him back by each arm, and FP lets out a warning, “Boyyyy! Don’t you move.” Tall Boy reaches out to stroke Betty’s blonde hair, making taunting eye contact with Jughead. She flinches a little, but it’s hardly enough to be cause for any real concern; the girl looks more irritated than frightened. 

Unfortunately, the Jones boys have always had an overdeveloped sense of chivalry.

FP hits Tall Boy in the face with a solid right hook, and Tall Boy responds with a hard fist to the kidney. Jughead, Sweetpea, and Fangs (the latter looking positively gleeful) are soon taking on Porkchop, Venom, and Rattler. When it seems like Tall Boy is getting the better of FP, Betty hoists up a chair-making Toni momentarily jealous of the taller girl’s biceps-and brings it down on Tall Boy’s head, knocking him out cold.

Toni shakes her head and mutters to herself, “All I asked for was no fucking drama,” before stomping into the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole reason I started this story was because no one was responding to my fic prompt on Tumblr, but it turns out I just needed to be more patient! Stirringsofconsciousness just released the first part of her awesome take on a Toni/Betty teamup called Putting Yourself First. Check it out :) 
> 
> Also please comment and let me know what you want to see more of or less of! Thanks so much for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

The thud of Tall Boy’s body hitting the floor echoes in her ears, and Betty drops the chair in shock. FP shouts “Thanks, Betty!” over the clatter, nods meaningfully towards Maria beside her, and then runs off to save Fangs from a chokehold. She feels Maria’s delicate hands on her shoulders and lets the taller girl lead her to safety behind the bar.

“Shouldn’t we go help?” Betty asks, looking around frantically for Jughead. She spots him across the room, hauling a rangy man with virulent green hair off of Sweetpea broad back. 

“Nah,” Maria says, uncapping a bottle of bourbon, “They’ll settle down once they realize Tall Boy’s out. Besides,” she continues, setting a couple of highball glasses on the bar, “it’s just a family squabble. No one ever gets really hurt, not when it’s Serpent against Serpent.”

Betty squints at her skeptically, thinking uneasily of Penny Peabody. (She’d never mention it to Jug or Toni, but the Serpents’ much-vaunted commitment to unity and loyalty often feels tenuous to her.) But then she registers that the Serpents are cheering, acting more like they’re watching a sporting event than a bare knuckle brawl. She assumes they wouldn’t be shouting so eagerly if there was any real danger. 

She notices Lottie and Bridget squatting besides Tall Boy’s prone figure. To Betty, he looks threatening even in repose, but the two older girls seem unconcerned, grabbing him firmly by the wrists and ankles to drag him away from the melee. They are none-too-gentle about it either, letting his side hit the legs of the pool table as they make a turn. 

“Where are they taking him?” 

“Oh, they’ll probably lock him in the storage closet.”

“What?! Why? Doesn’t he need medical attention?”

“Bridge’s mom was a home health aide until the MS got bad, so she learned a few tricks. She’ll make sure he’s alright. Besides, his buddies over there will go looking once they realize he’s missing. They’re not too bright, but there’s only so many places he could be.” Maria nods across the room, where FP has finally pushed Sweetpea and Venom apart. No one’s throwing punches any longer, though even from this distance Betty can tell that Toni is still hurling insults at the boys. 

Maria grins mischievously. “Lottie likes to teach ‘em a lesson. She’s not much of a fighter, but she’s a snake, alright. One of the guys liked to get handsy with her; everytime he came into the bar he acted like she owed him something, for weeks and weeks. So Lottie waited till he passed out drunk one night and had Bridge help her load him into her truck.” 

Maria pauses and sets a glass in front of Betty, who takes a delicate sip of whiskey and ginger ale. “They drove the kid out to Fox Forest and left him there naked as the day he was born. Took 3 hours for him to hike back to town, and as soon as he hits the main road he runs into Keller and gets ticketed for indecent exposure. I heard even his dick got sunburnt.”

Betty lets out an incredulous laugh. “So what’d Tall Boy do to Lottie?”

“Betty, he was a prick tonight. To you, to Toni, to Jug and FP. Not just tonight. He’s been a prick a lot lately. He needed a reminder: Serpents take care of each other, we don’t cut each other down. Besides, Toni’s plan’s a good one. Lottie just dropped out of Southside High, so she’s probably gonna end up working at the Landing Strip part-time. She was looking forward to making some cash on home turf too.” She snorts, and says, amused. ”Oh boy, here we go.”

Before Betty can ask what she means, she’s twirled around and lifted off her feet by Jughead. She savors the comforting scent of Jughead’s skin when he presses her face against his neck. She wants to stay this close to him forever, she wants to rub her face against him like a cat, and it’s the intensity of that longing that makes her step back. Then he lifts her chin with one finger, his eyes searching her face, and asks urgently, “What happened? Are you ok? Did they hurt you?” Before she can answer, he’s unzipped her jacket and pushed it off her shoulders, running his hands anxiously over her arms and torso. 

She laughs a little under her breath, “Yes, Jug! Everything is fine, I promise. I’m not hurt at all!” He, on the other hand, did not come out of the fight unscathed. She reaches for his jaw, turning his head to the light so she can inspect the cut on his temple. 

Toni strides up to the couple and says proudly, “Your girl took down Tall Boy! Not bad for baby’s first barfight.” 

“Nice move with that chair,” Fangs adds, as he and Sweetpea approach the bar. “He didn’t see that coming.” Sweetpea smirks and nods approvingly at her, grabbing a napkin to wipe the blood off of his thick silver rings. 

Finally reassured that the blonde is unhurt, Jughead is able to laugh. He looks down at her with affection, running his hands gently from her ribs to her hips, and says, “And in this dress, no less. You look like a Bond girl.” 

FP takes a seat on a barstool, and Maria automatically starts pouring him a whiskey. “Thanks for the backup, Betty.” He swipes at his bloody lip with the back of his hand.

“I shouldn’t have complained so much to Veronica when Cheryl made me the base on cheer squad. All those hours lifting Tina Patel turned out to be useful.” She dabs the blood on Jughead’s temple with a napkin, and asks, “Do you have a first aid kit?”

Maria searches the cabinet while Betty pushes Jughead into a chair. He insists he doesn’t need help, his protests increasing in volume when she pulls off his beanie, but he quiets as soon as she runs her hands through his hair. She pushes it away from his forehead-ostensibly to check for cuts and bruises, but her ministrations are far more tender than they are clinical. 

“What were you thinking, Jug? Fighting?”

She lets go of his hair when Maria tosses her the white plastic box, and Jughead lets out a shaky exhale.

“Hey, this one wasn’t my fault. It was dad who threw the first punch. I was merely….swept up in the ensuing chaos.”

“Boy, I had to throw that punch to head you off! I knew you’d go after him. And I didn’t want you giving Tall Boy any more reason to hurt you. He started all that nasty talk about Toni and Betty to provoke you, and he only wants to provoke you because you’re my son. This power struggle between Tall Boy and me….you kids just got caught in the crossfire.”

FP leans over to snatch a bandaid from the kit, but Betty pokes a finger sternly towards him and says, “We’ll be disinfecting that first. Don’t move, Mr. Jones, you’re next.”

———————————

 

Betty’s fussing over Jug like he’s a soldier back back from war, and he’s looking at her like she fell into his lap from the heavens. In Toni’s opinion, they’re about five minutes away from acting out Naughty Nurses IV: The Night Shift. FP is focused on the bottom of his glass, dealing with guilt the way he always does. Sweetpea is playing dice games with Porkchop (better that than pool; she’d be pissed if he lost a game of skill to someone she loathes so passionately). Fangs has pulled Ginger half in his lap so she can hold a towel of ice against his black eye. Cricket’s doing what she usually does after drink number five: gyrating on the stage with the albino python draped over her shoulders. Everywhere there are Serpents laughing and dancing and groping each other, and somehow they’ve all forgotten Toni Topaz.

She’s furious. She’s more than furious. She wants to do worse than break glasses. She wants to tear down the rafters. She wants to burn this place to the ground. 

This night was supposed to be her triumph. The start of a new era. 

“No disrespect, but I don’t give a fuck about the Jones rivalry with Tall Boy right now,” she snaps. “What I care about is the fact that we didn’t get to vote on my proposal. Tall Boy thinks a girl can’t come up with her own ideas, needs a man’s help? Fine, he’s a sexist pig and I don’t get his vote. But that wouldn’t have mattered if we’d actually gotten to fucking vote! I could feel the energy in the crowd, I know: we would’ve won.”

She turns towards Jughead, “But no, instead of ignoring him, staying on topic, you let him rile you up! As though every girl in this room doesn’t hear talk like that every goddamn week. As though Betty’s gonna fall to pieces because some beefy old dude touched her hair. And then FP steps in and the next thing I know everyone’s forgotten what the fuck we were even talking about!” 

Betty looks at her with sympathy and Jughead sighs, “I’m sorry, Toni.”

“All I asked of you was that you keep your drama away from the meeting tonight. But you just can’t help yourself can you?”

She points one index finger at Betty and the other at Jug “The two of you have the biggest savior complexes I’ve ever seen. And now you’re fucking up my life along with each other’s. You gotta sort out your shit.” Deep down, she knows she’s overreacting. And she knows she ought to direct at least some of this vitriol towards FP. But it’s easier for her to berate Jughead. Maybe because FP is about as close to a father figure as she’s ever gonna get around here (even if he isn’t much of a role model). Or maybe because FP’s opinion carries more weight with the gang, and she needs to stay on his good side to get what she wants. 

Betty reaches towards her, lips turned down in regret. “Toni, I’m so sorry for how everything turned out. What can I do? How can I help?”

Before she can answer, FP looks at her, brown eyes solemn, and says, “I promise you, we will hold that vote next month.”

She scoffs, “By then we’ll have lost our momentum. And Tall Boy will have four weeks to come up with some diabolical scheme. You know he will. It’s like, his favorite pastime.”

“So I’ll have a sitdown with him. I need to drain this bad blood before it festers any further.” 

He presses his lips together in consternation, and his mouth starts to bleed again. Betty tsks under her breath and moves towards him with the first aid kit. As she pours peroxide onto a cotton ball, she says, “We’re going to fix this, Toni. I promise. I’m here to help.” 

“Well, we’re not going to be able to fix it tonight. Someone pour me a fucking drink. We’re gonna salvage this night. I want to have some fun.” 

————————-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with me for 10 chapters!!!!! Please comment if there’s anything you particularly liked-or if there’s anything you would like to see! :)


	11. Chapter 11

Betty watches warily as Toni stubs a pink-rimmed cigarette into a black plastic ashtray. She’s using far more force than necessary, but then, even the way she’s been sipping her drink seems aggressive to Betty. Toni had insisted they play a game of darts, and Betty agreed eagerly, figuring it would serve as a fun distraction from the meeting’s unfortunate end. But Toni’s mood remains sour, and Betty is kicking herself for not realizing that Toni would be especially sensitive about losing tonight. She should have suggested that Toni team up with Jug, whose preternatural aim was honed by hours of idle dart-throwing in the Andrews’ basement, killing time while Archie practiced guitar.

Toni must have been unaware of Jughead's odd talent when she declared this game would be boys vs girls-or maybe she assumed Sweetpea’s ineptitude would neutralize Jughead’s skill. Thanks to Sweetpea, there’s a large and growing constellation of pinprick holes in the wood-panel walls. He doesn’t get discouraged, though, just chuckles under his breath a little at Toni’s teasing. 

Sweetpea is ruffling Toni’s hair, more playful than Betty’s ever seen him, and Toni rolls her eyes, saying he better leave it alone or next game he’s gonna be the dartboard. Jughead laughs, “How Sid Vicious of you,” referencing a scene in the movie Sid and Nancy, but Betty shakes her head and says, “I see her more as the detective Elizabeth Olsen plays in Top of the Lake.” Toni nods approvingly, explaining to a confused Sweetpea, “This drunk guy in a bar makes fun of a little girl who got raped, so the detective stabs him with a dart” and tells Betty they are definitely marathoning that show together sometime. 

Soon Jughead, Toni, and Betty are debating the best darts scenes in movies while Sweetpea swigs from his bottle of dark beer, looking bored-until they mention Morgan Freeman’s switchblade to the bullseye in Se7en.

“Why don’t you try it, Jones?”

It’s still a bit startling to Betty, to see Jughead pull a knife from his pocket so casually, but-for better or worse-she’s becoming more and more comfortable with evidence of the violence in their lives. The Northside is just as bloody and just as bloodthirsty; after all, both her mother and Archie have guns. The only real difference is that the Northside has the resources to scrub the blood away after it spills, and the will to pretend afterwards that it was never there at all. There is something she finds strangely refreshing-even honorable-about the lack of pretense on the Southside.

And she has to admit, if only to herself: watching Jughead crack his neck before a throw, his smug smirk when he hits the target...it’s turning her on.

“You should join the carnival,” Sweetpea says, when Jughead hits the bullseye for the fifth time in a row. 

Fangs, who’s come up behind Sweetpea and swung an arm around his shoulders, adds, “Yeah, you play the magician and Betty can be the target girl. Hey, Cooper, you got a sparkly version of that black outfit you wore for initiation?” 

Jughead’s dark brows draw together and his nostrils flare, but before he has his own Sid Vicious moment, Toni steps between them and insists on trying next. Her blade barely hits the board, and she huffs irritably as she extracts it before stomping off towards the stage. 

She pulls a girl with black hair and vivid red bangs into her arms to dance, sliding her hands over the girl’s back, then lower. Betty furrows a brow when the two kiss, watching Toni’s skimpy black dress ride up. When Fangs notices her stare, he asks teasingly, “Jealous?” 

Betty startles. “Oh! No, I’m more...worried. She’s obviously still upset about how the meeting turned out. I want to make her feel better, but I don’t know how.”

“She’s just gotta blow off steam. It’s the Topaz way: first she yells, then she drinks, then she competes in something (mostly so she has an excuse to trash talk). Then she either breaks shit or fucks somebody random. If you really wanna make her feel better, drag her into the storage room and start taking off your clothes. But it looks like that role’s already filled by Sheila the prospect tonight,” he says, nodding his head towards the girl in Toni’s arms.

Betty feels helpless, and she doesn’t like it. She’s accustomed to knowing how to solve her loved one’s problems, and-if there’s no practical solution-how to distract them. 

She understands that once her mother has tired herself out ranting (or tossing bricks), she’ll need a hefty glass of wine. She has a cover story to offer her parents so runaway Polly gets a solid head start, and she has one to offer her mother so her father can tinker in the garage undisturbed. She is a listening ear and a board game opponent for Kevin, and she’s there to reign in Veronica’s more elaborate schemes from the nearest salon chair. For Archie, she’s a captive audience when he bares his soul in song. And she’s mastered how to cook all of Jughead’s (many) favorite foods. But her recent efforts to fix things have backfired, and there’s nothing she can do to help Toni Topaz. 

She looks over at Jughead, about to ask if here’s anything special they can do tomorrow to cheer her up, but he’s not paying attention. He is staring morosely at his father, who’s holding court over a group of laughing older Serpents, gesturing so wildly with a half-full glass of whiskey that it splashes.

The disappointed look on Jughead’s face makes her desperate to put her arms around him, and for a moment she considers it-after all, he hugged her earlier tonight, after the bar fight. But they’re not dating, and so she’s not sure whether it would be appropriate. Besides, she doesn’t know if she could bear it if he pushed her away.

Instead, she asks, “Hey, Jug, could you teach me to do that? Throw like that, I mean” and he turns towards her with a smile. 

“Sure, Betts.” 

He pulls a dart roughly from the board and hands it to her. To her surprise, after she lifts her arm to throw, Jughead moves himself right behind her. He advises her to relax her fingers, bracketing her body with his arms as he reaches forward to adjust the position of her hand. He pushes his knee against the back of hers so that she slides her right foot forward. She’s tempted to lean back, to press herself against him, but holds her back straight instead. He mimes a throw with one hand over hers, and then takes a step back. 

Betty exhales shakily, hoping he does not notice she was holding her breath, and then she takes the shot. The dart sticks just barely outside the ring nearest to the bullseye. It’s a decent hit, so she cheers and spins around to smile at Jughead, lifting her arms automatically to throw them around his neck. She catches herself before they make contact, turning the aborted hug into an awkward clap. 

Suddenly Ginger takes the stage, shouting “20 seconds!” loud enough to be heard over the Nirvana on the jukebox, then spinning jauntily around the stripper pole. All around her phone screens light up and soon the crowd is bellowing a countdown: 10, 9, 8. Betty figures a goodwill kiss is allowed once the clock strikes midnight-even between exes. So she leans up on the toes of her silver leather flats, suddenly regretful that she rejected V’s offered stilettos. 7, 6, 5. She’s careful to keep her hands at her sides, so as not to touch Jughead unduely, but he grabs one anyway, drawing her closer. 4, 3, 2.

Then he kisses her, full on the mouth, with all the passion that’s been simmering inside her all night, and she hums approvingly against his lips. As he pulls away, her eyelids flutter, and she licks her still-parted lips and smiles. But when she opens her eyes, Jughead is staring at her, looking shocked at himself.

“Sometimes I miss you...want you so much I...forget,” he says in a low voice, while Serpents still cheer around them.

“It’s alright,” she says softly, “I wouldn’t have wanted to kiss anyone else anyway.”

“I..um...I better call Veronica,” she continues shakily, “I was supposed to meet her at Reggie’s after the meeting so....”

Betty pushes through the crowd, suddenly desperate for air. But Fangs leans in to give her a sloppy peck on the cheek, and then spins her into Sweetpea’s arms for a brief but powerful hug and a clap on the back. Toni is nowhere to be found, but the other Serpent girls are still here, and they stop to embrace her and kiss her cheeks and, in Cricket’s case, twirl her around like a ballroom dancer. By the time she’s made it to the bar, where Maria is using the soda gun to douse the rowdy crowd in tonic water, she’s smiling despite herself. She hurriedly puts on her Serpent jacket, long ago abandoned behind the bar, zipping it closed just in case Maria decides to turn the gun on her too. 

Betty finds her phone in her borrowed burgundy satin clutch, and clicks on the unread messages from Veronica (Are you coming, B?) (Archiekins is doing a keg stand already *brunette girl facepalming emoji*) (Omg Cheryl Blossom just verbally eviscerated Reggie, I think there are actual tears in his eyes.) (B!!!!!! I miss my bestie!!!!!!! Come to me!) She has received one text from Kevin that’s no words, just the champagne emoji 6 times. She texts Kevin a pink sparkly heart emoji, notifies Veronica’s driver that she is ready for pickup, and then tells Veronica that she’s on her way to the Mantle’s.

Before she makes it out the door, she’s stopped by FP, who pats her on the back and kisses her on the cheek before asking with a grin, “Happy New Year, kid. Alice got you on a 12:05 holiday curfew?” 

Betty shakes her head with an impish half-smile and answers, “She thinks I’m at the Mantle’s New Year’s Eve party with Kevin Keller. Veronica is sending over the Lodge car to take me there now.”

He runs a hand over his scruffy jaw and nods. “Probably best she doesn’t find out you were here. But listen, Betty, before you go... I wanted to apologize again for how things turned out tonight.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Jones. No harm done. It’s just words.”

“Still. It’s not right that you have to hear that kind of talk. I want you to know...I’m going to get Jug out of the gang.”

Betty shakes her head sadly and says, “With all due respect, Mr. Jones-as long as you and his friends are in it, he won’t leave. He won’t abandon you anymore than me and Archie would abandon him. The only thing you can do is try to keep him-and yourself- safe.”

Her phone screen lights up with a call and she hears a car honk outside. FP obligingly holds the door open for her and says, as she heads out into the cold night: “You’re a good girl, Betty Cooper. I know my boy’s been stubborn as hell, and caused plenty of trouble. But deep down, he knows how lucky he is to have someone like you. He’ll come around.”

She nods, smiling a bit sadly, and then turns to step into the gleaming black Lincoln Town Car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kate, who requested more Bughead & Starlightafterastorm, who loves FP & Betty moments, I hope this will suffice. 
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone! Thanks for reading and commenting! And forgive me for indulging in all my favorite romance cliches, but I’ve been watching a lot of cheesy holiday romance movies with my Gran and I just couldn’t resist.


	12. Chapter 12

Toni Topaz awakens on New Year’s Day in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar trailer. Fortunately, she’s accustomed to waking up in strange places, so she doesn’t panic. Squinting under the weight of her headache, she takes a look around.

She’s in a full size bed, tucked beneath a handsewn red bedspread embroidered with lopsided burgundy roses. Matching red curtains transform the winter sunlight into a mellow amber, which suits Toni’s hangover fine. It’s the color more than anything else that has her recollecting who brought her here: the entire room is coordinated to flatter Sheila Wu’s dyed bangs. Since Toni herself has been accused of being excessively committed to her aesthetic, she has a special affection for others who are similarly inclined. If Toni had her own room, or her own trailer, she’d deck the whole place out in pink. But Toni’s a guest wherever she goes.

She stretches and looks around the room for her underwear (under the bed behind several shoeboxes and a baseball bat), her black party dress (crumpled in the doorway), and her leather jacket (tossed over a Lucite cabinet in the corner). She dresses quickly and then peeks carefully into the hall, listening for footsteps, hearing nothing. In the kitchen, she finds a coffee pot, blessedly full, and a note in fat, loopy cursive: “Thanks for a fun night! I had to go to work at my Grandma’s shop (She closes on Chinese New Year but not American New Year, can you believe it?) Help yourself to some coffee and please turn the lock before you close the front door. XOXO Sheila 716-555-0898” 

Toni congratulates herself on the easy escape, deciding this is a sign: 2018 is going to be her year. She pours the coffee into a black mug that says White Tears, which she is strongly tempted to steal, but restrains herself; even if she lacks a more general goodwill towards men, she has goodwill towards Sheila, who showed her a spectacular time in the storage closet of the Whyte Wyrm. 

As soon as she opens the door to the outside world, she regrets it. The sky is hideously bright. She decides to take refuge two double-wides over, in the Jones trailer, figuring she ought to check in with them anyway.

Jughead answers the door wearing a white tank top, black sweatpants, and the most absurd bedhead she’s ever seen. Toni laughs, “Jones, you look exactly like a baby bird. So fluffy!.” Then she pushes past him and asks, “FP around?”

Jughead smirks, pulling his hat on. “You’re just jealous of all this luscious volume, Topaz.” Then his smile drops. “It’s just after noon, which means it’s about time for dad’s first beer of the day. He’s at the Wyrm.”

“Betty still here then?” 

“No, why would she be?” 

“Um...because you were all over each other last night? Don’t tell me we’re still in the will-they-or-won’t-they phase. Spoiler alert, Jug: you will.”

“She left right after midnight to meet Veronica and Archie at another party. And can you not be such a smartass? This isn’t easy for me, alright. I’m having a hard enough time processing this breakup as it is.”

“First of all, you’re the sober one, I’m the hungover one, so cheer the fuck up. There’s only room for one grouch in this trailer and I’ve decided it’s gonna be me. Second, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, you’re the least broken up pair of exes I’ve ever seen.”

Jughead sighs heavily and plops down on the couch, rubbing both hands over his face. “Yeah, I’m realizing that. I thought it would be safer for her if we were apart. But how can we even be apart when we keep ending up in the same places.”

“You better not be thinking you can order me to stop being friends with her.” Toni says in a stern voice.

“No, no, I’d never do that. It’s just...it’s hitting me how small this town is. We already share a best friend in Archie, and now she’s taken up with you and the Serpents...I can’t avoid her. And I can’t go back to being just friends with her either. Whenever I’m with her, it’s like I’m…overcome. The feeling is too overwhelming. I don’t know how to act.”

“So get down on your knees and grovel until she accepts you back. Stop creating problems for yourself.”

Jughead stands and walks towards the kitchen.

“She deserves better than me, Toni. Better than this life on the Southside. I didn’t treat her well after I transferred schools, I didn’t protect her, I wasn’t there when she needed me. How do I come back from that? We can’t go back to the kids we were before. And what can I give her, as the person I am now? Betty deserves a future, and it feels like I’m living day by day, minute by minute.”

“You think she’s meant to be with some Northside prep like the ginger vigilante?”

“Maybe she is.” Jughead says sullenly, reaching into the cabinet for two bowls. 

“You’re a fool, Jug. I’m so sick of the way you put them on a pedestal. They can be just as bad as we are, on the other side of town. Besides, Betty Cooper wasn’t meant for a guy like that.” She walks to the refrigerator and pulls out a milk carton. 

“You don’t even know her that well!”

“But maybe I see her clearly, because I don’t get all twitterpated around her like you do. I know she feels like an outsider, and according to her, you’re the only one who made her feel like that’s an ok thing to be. I know she needs a place where she can be herself, and speak the truth, and hear the truth, and none of those things are possible for her at home. And I know she doesn’t scare easy. She told me about getting that finger in the mail; if she can handle that, she can handle hearing Serpent business.”

“Toni..I know, ok? I know all that. God, my life is a mess and I have no idea how to fix it.

Jughead fills the bowls with Fruit Loops (one mound far higher than the other) while Toni pours the milk, then opens a drawer to find a couple spoons. 

“Look, Jug” she says, as they sit down on the couch to eat. “I’ll tell you what to do. And then I’ll leave you to it-because I can already tell that today’s itinerary consists of staring broodingly into the distance until you’ve compiled enough tortured thoughts to record on your precious typewriter. Next time you see Betty, ask her about Archie. And ask to use her phone.”

“What?”

“That’s all I’m going to say about it. Now, do you have any sunglasses?”

———————————————

Thanks to breakfast and the borrowed aviators, her headache is manageable during the walk back to her uncle’s. He is snoring on the couch, so she tiptoes past him to shower and change into more comfortable clothes. Then she retreats into the bedroom, contemplating taking a nap herself. Instead, she checks social media on her phone, which only serves to infuriate her, because all her friends have posted photos of the Whyte Wyrm party and now she’s thinking about the ill-fated meeting.

She decides to check Betty’s page, figuring that she would be too afraid to stir up the hornet’s nest by tagging herself in any Southside photos. Sure enough, all the pictures of Betty were taken in some Northside mansion; in one, she’s standing alone in front of a grand staircase that looks as wide as the room Toni’s in now. In another, she’s smiling next to Veronica Lodge, who wears a floor-length sequin gown of eggplant purple, and Archie Andrews, in a grey suit with a purple bow tie. All three are posed and pristine as models in a magazine. In the distance behind her are several men in eveningwear holding red Solo cups; she can tell by the breadth of their necks and shoulders that these must be Archie’s Red Circle cohorts, and she marvels again that Betty and Jughead are actually friends with that herd of oxen. She sends a text.

Toni: how’d it go on the northside

Betty: Well, I didn’t get to hit anyone else with a chair.

Toni lets out a surprised cackle and then tries to stifle the sound before her uncle hears. 

Betty: I was tempted, though, that’s for sure. Have you ever met Reggie Mantle?

Toni: dudebro jingle jangle dealer? 

Betty: That’s the one.

Toni: dont blame u one bit

Betty: How are you feeling? Did everything turn out alright last night?

Toni: ended better than i expected. hungover af now tho

Betty: Well, if you’re up for it later, maybe we can watch some crime dramas together? Also, we should debrief after last night. My mom won’t be a problem. She is hungover, too, but she’s pretending she’s not, which means she’s going to crash by 8. 

Toni: y not? c u then.

That clinches it: it’s time for Toni to take a nap. 

—————————————

Toni’s having reservations about this meetup by the time she’s walked the eleven blocks to Elm Street. North of Pop’s, the streets are too quiet. There’s no music blaring here, no motorcycle engines thundering, no shouting, no laughing. The two-story houses are evenly painted in different but coordinating colors, and each front door is decorated with a different but coordinating holiday wreath. The grass on each front lawn has been cut to an identical two-point five inches. It’s fucking eerie, in Toni’s opinion. She walks faster, partly because she’s freezing cold and partly because she is sure some nosy neighbor will call Keller as soon as he spots a grungy Serpent outside. 

She texts Betty as she approaches the Cooper’s, waiting by the side of the house instead of on the front steps so there will be less chance of Alice Cooper spotting her. The air smells of pine, and Toni turns to find half a dozen fir trees leaning against the brick house next door. Of course, she thinks, spoiled Northsiders even get extra Christmas trees.

Betty texts, “She’s dead to the world, you can come in!” just as she opens the front door, which is adorned with a wreath made of red, green, and gold Christmas tree balls. 

“Let me take your jacket,” Betty says, though she keeps it in her arms instead of hanging it on the gleaming coat rack in the corner. Toni widens her stance so she won’t fidget. 

“I made two types of popcorn,” Betty says, leading Toni into the kitchen, “Classic movie theater butter, which is Archie and Jug’s favorite, and kettle corn, which is mine.” Instead of the microwaveable paper bags Toni expects, there are two steel pots full of still-popping kernels on the stove. 

“Jesus, Betty. You didn’t have to go all out. I’ll eat anything.” 

“I wanted to,” Betty says, carefully pouring the popcorn into two large ceramic bowls. 

“Let’s go up to my room,” she says. Toni takes one of the bowls so Betty can steady herself on the railing as they ascend the lushly carpeted stairs. She’s glad Betty is ahead of her, so she can scan the posed portraits that line the walls, featuring various cleancut blondes in pastel sweater sets. Strong genes, she thinks. 

Then Toni steps into Betty’s bedroom, and she can’t stop herself from snorting in disbelief. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. You live inside a fucking dollhouse. But an old dollhouse. One from 1953.”

Betty turns to grin mischievously from where she is hanging Toni’s jacket in her closet. “I know, right? My mom picked it out.”

“It’s a shabby chic nightmare.”

Toni gawks openly at the pink floral chintz wallpaper, the ivory bedspread folded down with military precision, the collection of oddly shaped decorative satin pillows, the pale pink curtains. The only evidence that Betty lives here is the messy collage of glossy posters over her bed, the photos stuck into the frame of her ivory vanity mirror-including one of Jughead in an slightly oversized suit jacket (she reminds herself to mock him for it later)-and the many, many, many books. 

Toni peruses the bookshelves with envy while Betty opens up her laptop and clicks on Netflix. Then Toni pulls Betty’s desk chair closer to the bed and straddles it, digging into the bowl of butter popcorn.

She asks, mouth full, “So what happened last night? You and Jug looked so cozy when I left that I stopped by his place this morning expecting to find you there.”

“He kissed me at midnight, and then he looked like he’d done it by accident. He said “sometimes I forget,” whatever that means.” Toni rolls her eyes. “I hightailed it out of there. The Mantle party was alright though. No one was sniffing jingle jangle, like the last one. Only keg stands and beer pong and quarters, thank God. Archie got hammered, but it was good to be with him and Veronica without all the tension, you know? It was nice to just dance with her and Kevin and ignore real life for awhile”

“I’m guessing you didn’t wear your Serpent jacket inside,” Toni says, smirking. 

“I almost did! But Veronica met me outside and made me to take it off before Reggie and Cheryl could see it.”

“Probably for the best. Knocking out Tall Boy is one thing, but even you might end up arrested if you take down a Blossom or a Mantle.”

“Even me?,” Betty asks, smiling.

“You know, that whole young Reese Witherspoon-America’s sweetheart thing you’ve got going on is strongly protective against hassle from the pigs.” 

“That’s fair.”

Betty takes a deep breath and asks, “So…how did everything go on your end? Are you feeling ok?”

“I mean, I’m still pissed. I’m not sure what to do about it all. But I’m calmer than I was yesterday.”

“I..um...saw you with that girl?”

“Sheila? She was a pleasant surprise. I tried to time my orgasm with the countdown but I couldn’t last, that girl knows what’s she’s doing, lemme tell you.”

Betty laughs, a bit stilted. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I guess...I was a little worried, since you’d seem so stressed, that it would be...something you regret?”

Toni looks at her carefully for a moment, and then realizes why Betty suddenly seems so anxious. “Betty, I only regret sex when I don’t get off. I don’t believe there’s any difference between “meaningful” or “meaningless” sex.”

“Oh...I know...I just...wanted to make sure.”

There’s a long pause, and then Betty continues, 

“It’s hard, sometimes, because I heard all my life that good sex is sex with someone you’re in love with and maybe even married to, and bad sex is...everything else. All my friends are more casual about it than I am.” She sighs. “Kevin hooks up with strangers in Fox Forest, and Veronica has tried “every shade of boy.” Archie slept with our music teacher (which I still think was coercive, but which he insists is no big deal) and now he’s all over Veronica all the time. But the only boy who’s ever seen me naked is Jughead, and the only boy I’ve ever kissed besides him was Archie, and that was more about comfort than sex.”

Toni puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with taking sex seriously. Just as long as you understand other people have different takes on it.” She takes a handful of popcorn and nods towards the other bowl, waiting until Betty tosses a piece of kettle corn into her mouth before she continues.

“Look, Betty, I’ve never been in love. I’ve never even been close to it. If I waited around for my soulmate, I might be a virgin for years. And that would be a waste, because sex is fun. It’s good stress relief for me. There’s nothing pathological about it, as long as you’re not hurting yourself or anyone else. And just to be clear: I don’t sleep around because I’m bisexual. That stereotype is wrong. I just happen to be a bisexual who enjoys no-strings sex.”

“No, no, I never thought that,” Betty says. “Anyway, sometimes I feel like I only take sex seriously because I don’t have a choice, as a Cooper. I have all these ideas about it forced in my head, and I don’t know what’s mine and what’s my mom’s. I mean, my sister is only a year older than me and she’s pregnant with twins. And my mom got pregnant her senior year too, though she gave the baby up for adoption. It’s made my parents a little crazy when it comes to the topic of premarital sex.”

“Holy shit.” Toni lifts her eyebrows. “No fucking wonder you’re uptight about it. Well, if you ever need company to Planned Parenthood, I got you. You Cooper girls better double up on birth control. Maybe you should get an IUD?” 

Betty laughs, “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind….I’m glad you had a good time, anyway.”

“Yeah, I needed to blow off steam. But I’ll figure things out. I always do.”

“Toni… I just wanted you to know that I’m with you, all the way. I’m not going to give up on helping you end the dance. This is just a roadblock.”

Toni smirks, “Ride-or-die as ever, Betty. Now let’s watch some TV before this conversation gets any more like an afterschool special.”

Betty laughs, and shifts so there’s more room on the bed. She pats the blanket meaningfully, and Toni tosses some pillows on the floor to make more room before sitting crosslegged beside her.

“So what are you in the mood for?” Betty asks.

“Well, the walk over here was spooky as fuck so in keeping with that theme: Twin Peaks?”

“The revival, or should we start from the beginning?”

“Let’s take it from the top.” Betty pulls a blanket over them, and presses play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The aubergine sequin dress is a reference to stillscape’s fic Masquerade, because it is such a perfect Veronica Lodge fashion choice.
> 
> Also, I’m going to get on a soapbox for a minute:
> 
> I have so much loathing for the way this show writes its queer characters. I saw a gifset of Madeleine lauding the decision to make Cheryl bisexual this season because we need more bi representation...after I’d watched the episodes with the stalker plot. 
> 
> NOT ALL REPRESENTATION IS GOOD. When it reinforces dehumanizing stereotypes about bisexual women, like that we are sexual predators harrassing innocent straight girls...that’s not something I want to see on my TV.
> 
> So I thought long and hard about how I wrote Toni here, since there is a stereotype that bi girls are “slutty” and don’t care about monogamy and I didn’t want to perpetuate that. But I’m also working off of an existing character who was written to (in my opinion at least) embody that ”homewrecker” stereotype. The show already put Toni in that role.
> 
> But then I remembered, *I* am a bi girl who sleeps around. ;) So I just wrote her dialogue here as myself. Please know that if I could’ve created an OC from scratch, I would’ve made her a bi girl who is super romantic and into waiting until marriage, because that’s something we don’t see enough.
> 
> Anyway, off the soapbox. And in terms of positive bi representation, at least we have Detective Rosa Diaz.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me for so long! I hope you guys are still enjoying this!


	13. Chapter 13

Betty drops a pinch of garlic salt into a steel mixing bowl full of breadcrumbs, and reaches for a measuring cup. 

“Thanks again for letting me use your kitchen, Arch,” she says.

Archie shakes his head at her from his seat at the dinette table, “I get to eat it. It’s you who’s doing me the favor.”

Veronica hops up onto the tabletop next to Archie’s open notebook and his messy stack of algebra worksheets. She glances at his face and then leans over to peck his lips, as though she can’t resist a taste. She is dressed in skimpy yellow gym shorts and one of Archie’s white undershirts, the excess length tied in a knot.

“What I don’t understand,” she says, “is why you aren’t allowed to use your own kitchen. I thought Betty-the-domestic-goddess was one of the Alice-approved models.”

Betty laughs wryly from where she is rolling strips of cheese in flour. “The bacon-wrapped mozzarella sticks are not Alice-approved. If Mom saw me cooking fatty food, she’d think I was breaking my diet. I thought it best to keep frying oil out of her line of sight. I’m picking my battles these days.”

“Probably wise,” Veronica agrees. “Though I’d like to reiterate that there is absolutely no reason for you to be on a diet. Cheryl makes us stay in wolf wall pyramid longer every time we practice, and you never even stumble. You’re insanely fit. And, of course,” she adds, “insanely gorgeous.”

“Thanks, V.” 

Archie drops his head into his notebook face-down, and says, voice muffled, “I’ll never understand linear inequalities.”

“Do you want me to take a look, Archiekins?”

He lifts his head and smiles at her. “That’s ok, Ronnie. It’s not due Monday. I’ll take another look at it tomorrow. Besides, I should walk Vegas before Jug gets here.”

Veronica looks at him sharply, and then eyes Betty, who is using tongs to dip a now-breaded mozzarella stick into boiling oil. “Oh?Jughead is coming over?”

Archie follows her gaze, and then leans in to whisper, “Is that bad?” He’s not quiet enough, though, and Veronica shakes her head at him in fond exasperation when Betty answers, “No, Arch. We can all hang out without it being weird. You’re best friends, I want you to stay best friends. Besides, Toni is coming to pick me up soon anyway.” 

“I still can’t believe you’re going to this poker night, B.” 

“Why not?” Archie asks, standing and dropping a kiss on the top of his girlfriend’s head. “Betty’s great at poker. She always beat me whenever we played as kids.” 

He whistles and his yellow dog runs towards him, tail wagging, feet pitter-pattering against the tile.

Veronica grins at her boyfriend. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Remember when Dad taught us?” Archie asks Betty.

“We used Skittles instead of money,” he explains to Veronica, clipping Vegas’s blue leash to his black collar. “Jug always sat right next to Betty because her candy pile was so much bigger than everyone else’s, no one noticed when he ate some.”

“I’ll never understand how that boy doesn’t weigh five hundred pounds…” she says, leaning up to give Archie a lingering goodbye kiss, running her dainty hands over his broad shoulders. As soon as the door closes behind the redhead and his dog, she walks over to Betty.

“It wasn’t the poker night part that surprised me. It was the Southside Serpent part. You’ve been spending a lot of time with that Toni Topaz girl lately...”

“Toni’s my friend.” Betty says firmly, arranging the sticks on the oven tray. “And we don’t see that much of each other, anyway. I mean, you and me, we see each other at school and practice….It’s harder to schedule things with Toni because she’s at Southside High. And the Serpents…they’re just people, V.” She slides the tray into the oven and closes the door. She turns to find that Veronica is observing her with a frown. 

The raven-haired girl takes her hand and says quietly, “I just want to make sure that this isn’t a Jughead thing…or a dark Betty thing.”

“I told you, Veronica: there is no dark Betty. There’s only me. Sometimes I make mistakes, sometimes I have...episodes of panic. But that’s not what’s happening here. I’m not becoming a criminal, I’m playing poker with some girls. Maybe I met them because of Jughead, but that’s not why I keep going back.”

“I trust you..it’s just...I need you to be ok, B.” 

Betty hugs her tightly, and says softly into her ear, “I’m getting there. Every week it gets a little easier. And a lot of that is thanks to you, V. I’m so grateful that we’re friends again.”

“There’s no ‘again’! We always were friends, and we’ll always be friends. Now, let me help you clean up.”

Together they separate the Andrews’ cooking supplies from the Cooper’s. Veronica grasps the Andrews’ dishes gingerly between thumb and forefinger and drops them into the dishwasher, while Betty stacks the supplies she brought in a large plastic bag. Then, as soon as Veronica turns her back, Betty rearranges the dishes in the dishwasher so that the plates are standing in the appropriate slats. By the time Betty finishes wiping down the counter, there is a loud buzzing from the alarm, so she turns off the heat and uses the Andrews’ battered brown mitt to move the tray from oven to table. 

She opens a Tupperware container, setting it beside a white ceramic platter. “One for the Andrews, one for the girls,” she explains.

The doorbell rings and Veronica looks at Betty. “I’m going to go change into proper clothes. Unless you need moral support, B?”

“I’ll be fine! Go ahead upstairs.” 

“I can stay, Betty. If you don’t want to see him alone.”

“I promise, Veronica. I can handle it.” She towels her hands dry and walks to the front door to unlock it. 

“Hi. Um. Archie’s walking Vegas so…”

“Hi,” Jughead says. He’s wearing his sherpa-lined denim jacket today, and the gray S t-shirt that she wore to bed the last night they spent together. 

They stare at each other for a long moment.

Betty steps back jerkily to let him inside, then follows him into the kitchen.

“Don’t!” she says sharply, when he reaches for a mozzarella stick. “They’re still too hot to eat.” 

“Looks delicious, Betts.”

The words propel her into the past. How many times, she wonders, has he said them through the years? 50? 100?

When she was 8, playing pretend with the EZ bake oven.

When she was 11, baking her very first batch of cookies without supervision, her mother’s apron sagging off her chest.

When she was 15, brandishing a wooden spoon of icing for him to taste, then licking the melted sugar off his lips. His hands played with the strings of her pink-and-white striped apron; her hands, oven-mittened, pressed flat against his shoulders, sliding behind his neck when he deepened the kiss.

She rubs her palms together, then interlocks her fingers. 

“Don’t get too excited,” she warns, “You and Archie only get half. I’m taking the rest to the Wyrm.”

“Oh…so...with Toni, I’m guessing.” he says in a strained voice, while she fills the Tupperware container with snacks and dumps the rest onto the platter.

She arches a brow. “Another lecture, Jughead?” 

“No.” he says firmly. “Actually...I...I wanted to apologize.”

She crosses her arms, and he rubs the back of his neck.

“You were right. It was wrong of me to try to control you. It’s none of my business where you hang out.”

She squints at him warily, waiting for a catch, but he says nothing else. His eyes are soft, and his expression seems genuinely regretful. 

She takes a deep breath, exhales. “It is your business, Jughead. Just like you’re my business. I mean, it’s ok to care about my safety. I care about yours. But it’s not ok if you think that means you can tell me what to do.”

“I don’t,” he insists. “I won’t tell you what to do. I know you can take care of yourself. You’re strong and you’re capable and you have the right to make your own decisions. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking...and writing...and I’ve realized. Betty...I made a lot of mistakes...” 

There’s a creak as the door opens and Archie says, “Betty, there’s a girl on a motorcycle outside for you? Oh, hey, Jug.”

“Oh,” she says, flustered, rushing to pack the Tupperware into her light blue knapsack. “Arch, I didn’t have a chance to run the dishwasher, I’m so sorry. I can come back later and do it, if you want. Is it alright if I leave the cooking supplies here?”

“Betty, of course it’s ok. You did all this work, Jug and I can do the dishes.”

Jughead nods from where he has crouched to greet a happy, panting Vegas.

“Thanks, Archie. I’ll come back for the supplies tomorrow morning. And, um, bye, Jughead.” Betty says, opening the front door.

“You weren’t about to leave without saying goodbye to me, were you?” Veronica asks archly as she descends the staircase. She’s now wearing a black fit-and-flare sweater dress with a white Peter Pan collar and black herringbone tights. She’s applied black eyeliner and dark fuschia lipstick. 

Betty laughs, “Never, V!” and holds her arms out for a hug. 

As the two untwist, she feels a tap on the shoulder. It’s Jughead, holding out her phone.

“You forgot this,” he says in a soft voice. His hands are trembling. Betty looks askance at him, then thanks him and bounds down the front steps. 

When she hikes one leg over Toni’s motorcycle, she cannot help but think of the first time she rode one, with Jughead. She remembers holding tightly to his lanky frame, pressing her face against his denim-clad back whenever he took a corner, afraid and exhilarated and so in love.

Toni’s leather jacket is cold against her palms, so she folds her hands. She closes her eyes and breathes in the razor-sharp air as they speed across town.  
——————————

When they reach the Whyte Wyrm, Betty sees that the parking lot is already packed with motorcycles. 

“Good turnout,” Betty says, removing the black helmet and tightening her ponytail. 

“It’s because of the meeting,” Toni explains with a grin, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “All week, Serpent girls have been stopping by the bar during my shifts to talk about the dance. They’re really into our plan, Betty. I told them we could talk more at the game tonight.”

“That’s wonderful! I knew things sort themselves out.” 

“Well, it’s a good start. But having the women’s support won’t matter unless we can convince the men to listen to us.”

“We’ll figure it out, Toni.” Betty says, pulling the heavy door open. “Oh, wait. Should I put my jacket on before we go in? I left it in my backpack.”

Toni smirks. “After the scene Tall Boy made, everyone knows who you are. You won’t need it.

——————————-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter because I’m really craving mozzarella sticks. And also because in my universe Archie does not pine over Betty! He makes out with Veronica and he fails his algebra homework. ;)
> 
> Also, back on the soapbox, inspired by a conversation with MotherMaple.
> 
> The way the show depicts Betty’s mental illness is deeply disturbing, and the cast feeds into that with their #darkbetty comments.
> 
> At first, Riverdale had Betty exhibit realistic signs of anxiety, and her self harm is consistent with a lot of girls in her demographic, too. They could have taken that plot in a lot of interesting and thoughtful directions.
> 
> But then the writers bundled the “boiling a boy while dissociating” stuff in with the anxiety, as though mental illness is this vague catch-all label for any aberrant behavior instead of a collection of discrete categories (with some overlap but in actuality not that much.) 
> 
> And, even worse, the writers linked the sadistic dissociation to Betty’s sexuality (because we don’t get enough of the “psycho girls are nymphos” stereotype in media). They frame her sexuality as something she experiments with when she’s “not in her right mind.” Therefore they can keep the true Betty “pure and virginal.” 
> 
> It’s gross, I hate it, let’s not perpetuate these toxic ideas anymore. For a measured and realistic portrayal of severe mental illness on a truly ridiculous show, see Ian Gallagher on Shameless.
> 
> Off soapbox.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!!!!!! And especially for commenting! I love hearing your thoughts.


	14. Chapter 14

Toni leans back in her chair, letting the front legs lift from the floor and then drop again with a clatter. She opted out of participating in the game; there are too many women here for everyone to play. Besides, she’s here for the conversation, not the bets. 

Betty tried to beg off too, insisting Toni deserved a turn. When Toni waved her off, she whispered, “I don’t think it’ll go over well if I win twice in a row.”

Toni rolled her eyes and smirked, “Look who’s gotten cocky! There are new girls here this time; stiffer competition, Queen of Hearts.”

“And...I kind of feel bad taking people’s money..”

Toni scowled at the blonde, who looked like a casual wear mannequin in her bright white-and-blue baseball shirt, pressed jeans, and pristine Keds.

“They know the risk, it’s up to them whether they take it. You should know something about that. If you’re gonna treat the Southside like a charity case, you better stay home with your rich friends.”

Chastened, Betty took her seat at the card table. And of course, an hour later, Betty ends up with the winning hand, a straight flush. 

There is some grumbling, but overall the Serpents accept loss with good grace-in no small part because they love Betty’s cooking. Toni bites into the last mozzarella stick, congratulating herself for finding a friend who copes with heartbreak by feeding everybody she knows. It’s a refreshing change from the Whyte Wyrm crowd, who tend to deal with their problems by drinking, fighting, fucking, or sulking.

Toni watches as Betty flattens another dollar with the heel of her hand before adding it to her neat stack of winnings. Her golden hair is pulled into a high ponytail, curling at the end, and her only makeup is mascara and pink lip balm. Next to leather-clad Lottie, whose electric blue hair is in a haphazard braid and whose dark eyes are rimmed in yesterday’s black liner, Betty looks especially prim. 

But Betty’s smile is easy when she turns to the older girl and says, “I heard you’re applying at the Landing Strip. I hope it goes well!”

Lottie fiddles with the tip of her braid and sighs. “I applied already...I got the job, but...ugh, at least at initiation I had a crowd. Made it feel less personal. This time the audience was the manager and a four-top of old dudes-including my freshman year Earth Science teacher-

Maria gags dramatically and shouts, “Not Mr. Campbell?! The one with the comb-over?” 

-I made $11 bucks-“

Cricket gasps, “That isn’t even enough to keep you in baby wipes and fake lashes for the week.”

“-and I tripped on my new heels. Twice. I look like Hogeye came after me with those steel toed boots of his. ”

Betty purses her lips in sympathy. “You know what helps with bruises? Arnica gel. I’m always black and blue from cheerleading.”

“They don’t care if you fall over. Don’t be a baby about it. Play it off with attitude,” rasps Angela, a brunette in late middle-age.“It’s not about dancing, it’s about sales.”

“And how many years has it been since you were on the pole?” Ginger asks, snidely.

“Oh, it’s been a few. But I joined the Serpents at 13, and I worked the club in Greendale that burned down, Scandals, for near-two decades after that. Off and on, of course. Between husbands.”

“So what’s your advice, then?” Lottie asks, lighting a cigarette.

“Like I said, it’s all about attitude. Don’t worry so much. You’ll make money at first because you’re a fresh face, and people like what they haven’t seen before. You’ll learn to hustle as you go, figure out what a guy likes before he tells you, tailor your act. But if you’re squeamish about your teachers recognizing you, I don’t know, maybe wear a wig during your shift…Hey, gimme one of those cigarettes, will you?”

“Oh,” she continues, bringing the cigarette to her mouth and motioning impatiently for a lighter, “and thigh highs cover the bruises, let you skip a shaving day.” 

“I don’t know how you do it,” Maria says, obligingly tossing over her beloved silver lighter, engraved with an eighth note, “I almost didn’t make it through initiation. I thought I was gonna throw up the whole time, I barely held it in until I got off the stage.”

“I don’t know, I liked it,” Cricket says, running her hands through her shiny cap of platinum hair, “I felt super hot, with all the cheering, really good about my body, even though I have stretch marks and stuff. What about you, Betty?”

“Oh,” Betty’s says with a high, forced laugh, “I mostly...I guess I was focused on how mad my boyfriend looked. He..uh...didn’t approve.”

“Isn’t that just like a man?” Bridget scoffs. “Always gotta have an opinion, and usually the wrong one. What’d he-”

When she notices that Betty is biting her lip and beginning to fidget, Toni interrupts, “Men are trash. Honestly it’s a miracle I’m even slightly interested in dick, after my initiation. I felt fucking disgusting. And fucking disgusted.” 

Lottie nods emphatically, “Initiation was a nightmare. And my audition wasn’t easy...But stripping now that I’m grown?…It feels like reparations. Like, if I’m gonna get hassled, called a Serpent slut, I might as well get paid for it, you know?”

“I send enough free nudes to guys who turn out to be fuckboys…maybe I oughta start charging,” says Ginger, worrying her silver lip ring with her tongue.

“What’s the management situation there, at the Landing Strip?” Toni asks. “Is the place safe?”

“Safe enough,” says Laurie, a button-nosed blonde in her mid-twenties. “Decent money. Flexible schedule, usually. But the girls who do full-service on the side get the best time slots, because Marty-he’s the manager-takes a cut. He has me working lunch shifts this week because he’s pissed I put on bitter body spray to freak out the creeps who try to lick me during lap dances.”

By now, Betty has lost her poker face. She’s staring openly at Laurie, jaw dropped. Toni catches her eye, shakes her head minutely, and Betty lets her polite mask drop back into place.

“You ever do full service, Ang?” 

“Nah, not my scene. But I did some domme stuff, that summer I lived in the city. One guy, an accountant, paid me to sit naked at his desk while he did his taxes-eventually I started bringing in my own taxes for him to do. And another guy, he liked when I made him yell out the window, embarrassing shit, though sometimes I just made him shout all about how sexy I was. The window opened right over Greenwich Avenue, too. That was my favorite gig because I could go out, get a latte, eat a hot dog...as long as I stayed within earshot.” The women guffaw, Bridget hitting the table so hard with her open hand that the playing cards flutter.

“Doesn’t sounds like the worst gig, if you can get it. But I imagine the situation at the Landing Strip isn’t so hands-off.”

“No,” Laurie confirms, slurping her rum and coke for emphasis. “People around here are usually more…”

“Pedestrian in their tastes?” Betty suggests.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“So if you were gonna get paid, you’d rather do it at the Whyte Wyrm?” Toni asks.

“Yeah, of course I would.”

“So we are on the same page, show of hands: how many wanna end the serpent dance?”

All but three women raise their hands high.

“And holding the occasional strip nights here? For pay?”

All but two women raise their hands.

“Topaz,” Byrdie says, “You know the guys won’t go for it. They don’t give a fuck about this shit. We have bigger problems, anyway. The next meeting is gonna be all about the Ghoulies.”

Bridget scowls, “Why do Tall Boy and FP get to decide what the big problems are?”

“You can have every female vote and a third of the male vote in your pocket and they still outnumber you.” Byrdie continues, “It’ll never happen.” 

“That’s not equity,” grumbles Lottie. “Why should the men have a vote on something that’s a women’s issue anyway?”

“That’s democracy. Suck it up,” replies Byrdie, shrugging. 

Betty is staring pensively at her cards, brow furrowed. Then she lifts her head with a gasp.

“But the Serpents aren’t always a democracy, are they?”

“What do you mean?” Toni says warily.

“Well, with Penny Peabody, for example.”

“We voted on Penny,” Bridget corrects with a frown.

“But we did it after!” Toni says. “We did it after she was already out of the Serpents-for all intents and purposes, anyway.”

“So if you have a solid reason, in keeping with Serpent law, and you make a significant symbolic gesture, like...removing...someone’s tattoo, that speeds things along?”

“I see where you’re going with this. We need to do something big. So they can’t drown us out at the next meeting. Make a statement.”

“Like a strike?” Betty asks.

The Serpents roar with laughter, and Toni explains, in fond exasperation, “This isn’t a company, it’s a gang. What’re we gonna do? Set up a picket line outside the Wyrm? It’d turn into another gauntlet, if we tried to keep the boys from their beer. And it would attract attention we don’t want. The Ghoulies and the pigs would smell blood in the water and next thing you know we’re all patched over, dead, or in jail. ”

“We’re Serpents, Sweet Valley. We don’t wait around, we tear shit down.”

“A show of strength...,” Betty says under her breath, tapping the rim of her highball glass with her short pink fingernails. “So...let’s tear it down. Literally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably the roughest chapter to write, because I tried to be even-handed and keep it as close to real-life conversations I’ve had with friends who do sex work. Let me know what you think! I love hearing your thoughts!


	15. Chapter 15

As she listens to the Serpent women talk, Betty vacillates between shock, horror, admiration...and a strange kind of recognition. Laurie recounts her stunt with the body spray, and in the older blonde’s voice, Betty hears echoes of her own frustration and defiant pride. She’s felt both: the crushing pressure to play the role the world has assigned her, and the singular pleasure of going off-script. 

And in Betty’s dreams of her future, she writes her own script. Not Alice Cooper. Not the Black Hood. Not any teacher or neighbor or boyfriend or friend. 

She dreams of college, sharing an apartment in the city with Veronica, where she leaves her bedroom door ajar and her diary open on her desk. Eating breakfast in bed with Jughead, with no regard for falling crumbs. Wearing flannel pajamas to class in the morning, wearing little black dresses to parties at night. She’ll own five different shades of red lipstick and a drawer full of lace lingerie. She’ll listen to loud music without headphones on, she’ll sing in the shower. She’ll take up some unladylike hobby, like kickboxing, and get a side job that adds nothing to her resume, like posing nude for art students.

Her post-college dreams are hazier, but still rosy-colored. She’ll be an investigative journalist, maybe, living with Jughead in a quirky little house-off the beaten path, of course, so he can play recluse when he wants to. But there will be guest rooms-for Polly and the twins, and for Jellybean. She’ll buy a run-down ’66 Chevelle, and restore it on the weekends, paint it a bright poppy-red. Maybe they’ll travel sometimes, see Hemingway’s old haunts in Paris, eat lunch at the Formosa Cafe in L.A., do the Bloomsday tour in Dublin.

In their thirties, perhaps they’ll have a kid or two, who they’ll let run wild in the neighborhood, climbing trees and finger painting.The kids will pick out their own clothes and school supplies, and Betty won’t say a word if their outfits clash. She’ll encourage them to pursue whatever appeals to them, ballet or harmonica or underwater basketweaving. In the family she builds, every member will be free to be themselves. No oppressive expectations. No limits.

But the Serpents are the family these women have chosen, and within it they are controlled, exploited, dismissed. Toni and Lottie are Betty’s age, but they talk about their futures so differently: they make no mention of college or leaving Riverdale, and when they describe their dreams, they measure the probability that their dreams will come true. Betty glosses over practical impediments (ignoring, for example, the existence of the wage gap, unpaid maternity leave, and the decline of print journalism), but the Serpents are hyper-aware of them. 

While they play poker, Lottie talks about how she’s hoping to make enough cash to take a daytrip to the city with her boyfriend, who’s due out soon for good behavior. Toni’s goal is to move into her own place, buy a king sized bed with a pink down comforter. She doesn’t have the grades for college, so her career plan, to Betty’s surprise, is to eventually manage the Whyte Wyrm. Laurie wants enough weekend shifts at the Landing Strip to afford personalized Christmas gifts for her little girls, so next year she doesn’t have to rely on Toys 4 Tots. 

By the time the game has ended and they’re debating how to vote down the serpent dance, Betty’s shoulders are tense and her hands flex with familiar fury. It’s not fair, that they all have to make do with so much less than they deserve. It’s not fair that the people who are supposed to support them have instead ignored them or oppressed them. She has to do something, make herself useful in some way-but all her suggestions are unhelpful. She feels young and naive-because she is. And she knows that is a luxury. 

Then Byrdie says something that makes her think of Toni, that night all those weeks ago on the roof, whirling her arm to pitch crystal. 

-What do we do when we feel powerless? 

-We break shit.

And just like that, Betty has an idea. It might be impossible, and it’s definitely absurd. 

“The poles...they aren’t serving as support beams, right? I mean, they were added after the bar was built?”

“Yeah,” Angela says. “This used to be a regular old dive bar, when the Serpents were merely a glimmer in Bobby “Rattlesnake” Bell’s eye. He started the gang back in ‘68. To help the Southside during the riots, you know. The poles weren’t added until ‘79, when they first voted to admit women.”

Toni is watching her with an eyebrow arched, and Betty directs the next words to her.

“So it’s possible we can maybe...take one down? Like a message, either do it our way or we’ll knock them all over. They can’t ignore that.”

Toni asks, somehow simultaneously indulgent and sarcastic, “And how do you imagine we do that? You might be good at tossing chairs, but I doubt you can She-Hulk a steel beam.”

“Well...my best friend’s dad runs a construction company. I bet he’d let me borrow some supplies. And I’m pretty good with tools.”

————————————

So it’s 9 PM on a Saturday night, and Betty and Toni are visiting Fred Andrews. 

On the Andrews’ doorstep, Betty tightens her ponytail while Toni takes off her leather jacket and holds it behind her back, about as subtle as she ever gets. Then Betty rings the doorbell. Silence. She rings again.

They hear shuffling footsteps before Fred opens the door, leaning heavily against the jamb. Betty feels instantly guilty for disturbing him. His beard is unkempt, his eyelids are drooping, but he smiles when he sees her. 

“Hi, Betty!” he says, scratching at his cheek. “You just missed the boys. They went to Pop’s for dinner, they blew through those snacks of yours real quick. Delicious, by the way. As always.”

“We’re actually here to see you, Mr. Andrews. If it’s not too much of a bother. We had some questions about construction. Is this a bad time?”

“No, no, come sit down. Excuse the mess. I was napping,” he says, sitting slowly on the brown leather recliner and motioning for the girls to take the red corduroy couch. Today’s Riverdale Register lays open on the coffee table, beneath three glasses of water, each at a different level of fullness. 

“This is my friend Toni” Toni gives a lazy wave, “and she’s working for her...family business. They have these steel poles up as...decoration, and they’re trying to figure out whether it would be possible to remove them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betty’s dream car came from my current obsession, lovelee’s fic (I knew that it was) now or never.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! I hope those of you who have stuck with me this far are still enjoying it :) Let me know what you think!


	16. Chapter 16

Betty is scribbling earnestly in her yellow spiral notebook while Fred schools her on the difference between the “angle grinder” and the “heavy duty nibbler.” To Toni, all these tools sound like species of exotic fish. She stopped following along about six minutes into his lecture; she figures Betty is better suited to playing teacher’s pet. Instead Toni looks around the second Northside home she’s ever seen up close.

This one lacks the home-and-garden-centerfold effect of the Cooper house. The focal point of the living room is the TV, surrounded by nests of wires and video game controllers. The movie Braveheart is playing on the screen with the sound on mute. The walnut coffee table is a mess of dishes and well-thumbed magazines: Popular Mechanics and Builder and Guitar World. And although the furniture is high-quality, it’s all a bit faded. 

Which is fitting, since so is its owner. 

At first, Toni wasn’t sure. Maybe she was just projecting, because he reminds her of FP: scruffy white guy, a bit DILFy if you’re into that sort of thing, with a penchant for red flannel and an obvious fondness for Betty. Maybe that pinkness to his skin was the Porky Pig flush that seems to afflict most white men above a certain age. 

But Fred is scratching determinedly at his neck and temple while he talks, and he’s already guzzled the three glasses of water that were left on the table. By the time they finish the lesson and he leans in to shake her hand goodbye, she’s sure: there’s too much blue in those eyes.

On the doorstep, Betty turns to her eagerly, clutching her notebook to her chest, “Toni, I really think this is going to work! I have to go back to the bar and take some measurements, check on some details...but it didn’t sound that hard to do, did it?”

“No, not at all,” Toni agrees, shrugging into her jacket as they walk towards her motorcycle. To tell the truth, the whole thing sounded boring and complicated. “You wanna go back to the Wyrm to check on whatever you need to?”

“I still have an hour until curfew. And I missed dinner, I was so focused on cooking. How about Pop’s?”

“Won’t Archie and Jughead be at Pop’s?”

“I don’t care about that,” Betty said. “We’re all friends...but that’s them over there.” She lifts her chin in the direction of a red and tan truck turning onto Elm. “Now let’s go get some milkshakes.” She buckles her helmet while Toni throws a leg over her bike. 

——————————————-

At Pop’s, they order a cheeseburger with fries for Toni, a turkey club and side salad for Betty, and two strawberry milkshakes for dessert. Betty says she’ll use her poker winnings to pay for both dinners. When Toni demurs, Betty insists that she has to spend the money before Alice Cooper finds the stash and decides she’s taken up dealing jingle-jangle.

“Can I be honest?” Betty asks, spearing a lettuce leaf with her fork.

“Um, obviously. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“I’m really glad it’s just us. I was starving, but I didn’t want to run into Archie or Jughead.”

Toni laughs, “No shit. I didn’t either. That sounds awkward as hell.”

“I want it to be normal with us. Archie and Jug, I mean. It seems so wrong, after all these years being best friends, that everything is so mixed up. Things are fine with Archie, but with Jughead...every minute is so fraught.”

“He’ll figure his shit out, don’t worry. I think he’s getting there. But until he does, just...try not to obsess about him.”

Betty lets out a breath. “Easier said than done. It’s like, as soon as I stop moving I start obsessing about him….Do you...do you think I should tell him? About the kiss? I mean, they’re hanging out. Archie’s not good at secrets.”

“Nah, don’t bother. I mean, you’re broken up, you don’t owe him shit. Why should you be the one putting all the work in? If he comes to you wanting to have a heart-to-heart, that’s a different story. But until then, just let it lie.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

“Besides, you’ve got more important things to do than hold Jughead Jones’s hand while he baby-steps his way to emotional maturity. You’ve got some vandalism to plan.” As Betty laughs, she continues, “I gotta admit, I did not expect you to be the one to suggest straight-up demolition.”

Betty grins at her, pops a cherry into her mouth, then says, “I just thought to myself: What would Toni do? I guess your speech on the roof got to me.”

Toni smirks, “Well, for the record, destruction on so large a scale is less Toni and more Sweetpea. But I like it. I think in this case it’s a smart move.” 

She sobers. “Just….double check all those notes with some construction website.”

“Why? Mr. Andrews is a professional.”

“Betty, Mr. Andrews is high.”

“Um...what?”

“I don’t know if he’s an addict or what, but he was definitely doped up. Pain pills or heroin. I’m assuming the former, if only because they’re popular in his demographic. Haven’t you read the papers?” She rolls her eyes. “Opiate abuse is a public health emergency, now that it’s a white suburban problem and not an urban black one.”

“No, I mean, I knew, but….Mr. Andrews? I’ve known him my whole life. He must still be prescribed them, after the shooting.”

“Maybe.” Toni says, though she thinks it unlikely. Most doctors won’t write two weeks worth of scripts, let alone three months. “Look, I’m not doubting his expertise. FP is bombed half the day and he’s still sharp as a tack-most of the time. I’m just saying, double check. To be safe.”

“No, no, you’re right. God. I’m so glad the Black Hood is dead. I wish I could’ve killed him myself, sometimes. Things like this, they were never supposed to happen here.”

“They’ve always happened here” Toni snaps. “But they stayed on the other side of town, so you could pretend they didn’t exist. You only give a fuck now because they crossed the tracks.”

“That’s not true. If I’d known, I would’ve cared. By now, you should know me well enough to know that.”

“Fine...maybe you’re right. But forgive me if I don’t waste my sympathy on Fred Andrews of Elm Street.”

“I didn’t ask you to. I’ve got enough for both of us.” Betty pauses. “But the Black Hood came after us because of all that pretending, Toni. I think we’ve been punished enough.”

“Yeah, Betty, I know he did. I’m sorry, I know you’ve been through hell. And I know you care about the guy.”

There’s an awkward stretch of quiet. Toni sips her milkshake, then taps on the red-and-white striped straw. “I guess you could say...Things are rough all over.”

Betty tilts her head and squints at her for a long moment while Toni bites the inside of her cheek.

Then she asks, incredulous, “Did you...did you just quote the Outsiders at me?”

Toni bursts into laughter. “What, you don’t think we had to watch that stupid movie whenever we had subs, same as you? They probably played it twice as much at Southside Middle School, thinking it’d serve as a warning for all us “at-risk youth.” But all it did was give me a fetish for redheaded girls.” Betty shakes her head and laughs with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy happy happy New Year! I hope everyone had a chance to celebrate just the way they wanted to.
> 
> Forgive me the Outsiders reference, I could not resist.
> 
> Let me know if you’re still following, and what you thought of this chapter <3


	17. Chapter 17

Betty tilts her laptop screen so she can better display the gifts in her arms: two stuffed kittens, one orange and one gray. She grins when the spotty WiFi preserves the delighted expression on Polly’s face for an extra five seconds.

When Facetime reconnects, her sister exclaims, “-just like Caramel! Oh, it even has the same stripes he had on his tail. They’re perfect, Betty! The twins will love them, I just know it.”

“I can’t wait to meet them, Poll. I think about the three of you every day.” Betty purses her lips, hugging the stuffed animals to her chest. “And you’re doing well? at that farm?”

“I am, Betty...I do wish we could be together. But I don’t miss mom and dad. And I sure as heck don’t miss Riverdale.” She readjusts the pale yellow maternity pillow underneath her, and her face on the screen is briefly blurred.

“In Riverdale, I’m that crazy Cooper girl who got knocked up by poor dead Jason Blossom. But here in Potter’s Hollow? I’m not the only teen mom in town-not even the only one on the farm. And when they ask me about the father of my children, I can tell them who he really was. Things like...like how much he loved swimming. How we used to picnic on the riverbank, and he’d put his cheek on my belly so he could talk to the “guppies.” No one in Riverdale wanted to hear any of that that.” Her voice hardens. “They just wanted me to pretend he was what they wanted him to be. The football star, the water polo captain. The Blossom heir.”

“I wanted to hear it.” Betty says softly, hurt. “I wanted to be here for you. I was.”

Polly sighs, biting her lip. “Oh, Betty. I don’t mean to keep things from you. At first, I didn’t want to risk Mom finding out. And later...it was hard to talk about him in that house. I didn’t want to give Mom and Dad an excuse to think about him, let alone say his name. They’ve done enough to dishonor his memory.”

“So share something with me now. I can’t be the only one telling secrets.”

Polly closes her eyes for a long moment, humming a little, then opens them. “Alright. Here’s a secret: I didn’t know about the playbook, initially. But I didn’t care after he told me. His reputation was the reason I agreed to go out with him.”

Betty furrows her brows. “What do you mean?”

“Betty, I went on five first dates before my first date with Jason. Each one went the same way: milkshakes at Pop’s, holding hands across the table, a dry peck at the end of the night. But I was..curious, Betty. My first date with Jason, he sat in the same side of the booth, and...while we talked? He wrapped one arm around me and slid the other hand right up my skirt.”

“So it was about sex?” Betty asks, flabbergasted.

“No! I mean, maybe partly, at first. It was exhilarating, being with him. But it was more like..he saw something in me that no one else saw. He saw me and...I saw him. He was charismatic, but not like Cheryl is, all power-hungry, always scheming. He played at it, because that’s what his family expected. But he was gentler than anyone knew.” She blinks rapidly, squeezes her eyes shut, but still a tear escapes.

“Oh, Poll.”

“All these months, it’s like...my whole life revolved around him. And later, my whole life was built around the space he used to fill. But I never had the chance to actually let myself miss him until I came to the farm.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t get over things if you run away from them.” She chuckles wryly, eyes still wet. “I know that sounds hypocritical, coming from me. But I mean, emotionally. You have to step into the memories that hurt you, before you can step past them. No one lets that happen in Riverdale. They just want it brushed to the side.”

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, and sniffs. “Now...tell me more about these Southside adventures of yours. And don’t get mad if I nod off, ok? The babies and I are keeping farmer hours these days.”

So Betty tells her tale of breakups and bar brawls and poker games. Polly alternates between wicked amusement and sympathy, but never says a word of judgement.

Eventually, Betty talks her sister to sleep.

And after closing her laptop, she opens a battered hardcover-Nancy Drew: The Secret of the Old Clock-and begins to read.

—————————

 

She does not dream of letters in code, of green eyes peeking in her bedroom window. Instead, Betty’s dreamland is her own backyard. Betty is laying on her belly, blades of grass pricking her arms, while Polly, Josie, and Val jump double dutch in the sunshine. The older girls chant, “Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief…” and Polly laughs, kicking at the pink rope when it hits the scalloped lace edge of her ankle sock. Betty wakes with the echo of her sister’s laughter in her ears.

She dawdles deliberately in the shower so that she has to rush through family breakfast, ignoring her mother’s parting scold as she jogs out the door to Archie. 

On the walk to school and through the better part of homeroom, Betty probes Archie for details about his father’s recovery. She decides not to tell him about Toni’s suspicions until she’s done a bit more investigating; Archie has proven himself a bit of a reactionary, and she doesn’t want to reignite the powderkeg when they’ve only just doused it. Either Fred is healing normally or Archie is oblivious, so she asks him about his latest song instead, and they brainstorm lyrics together. (“Betty, Lay-os is a country, right? That rhymes with chaos.” “No, Arch, it’s pronounced Laos. With the short A.”) 

In first period, Betty partners with Kevin, who describes, sotto voce, his awkward small talk with Moose and Midge, attached at the hip since the shooting. He says the tension with Moose is still there. A few weeks ago, maybe she would’ve scolded him for getting involved with a boy who’s neither out nor single. In all honestly, she still worries. 

But she doesn’t say that to Kevin. For one, last night’s conversation with Polly only made her more aware how limited her experience of love and sex has been. She’s only had crushes on two people, both boys, both already loved as friends. Lust without affection is foreign to her. So she tries to “check herself,” like Toni always tells her to, and listen more than talk when she doesn’t understand.

For another, Kevin is vicious when cornered. She doesn’t want him to fire back with his take on her own more questionable behavior (especially since he has so much ammunition lately, between stripping in a biker bar, chasing a serial killer, pining for her ex, planning an act of vandalism, and kissing her best friend, ex’s best friend, best friend’s ex all in one go). 

So she reassures Kevin that time will make things less awkward with Moose. Then she insists on handling the worm dissection herself, so he can use the time to surf dating apps. At the end of class, Mr. Flutesnoot compliments her steady hand, and Kevin hugs her tightly enough to wrinkle his olive green button down.

Veronica meets the pair outside the lab, carrying a cardboard tray of coffee with ease despite the intimidating height of her black stilettos. Once they’ve settled in the student lounge, she presents a caramel mocha to Kevin, black coffee to Betty and light and sweet to Archie, before taking a latte for herself. She leans in to kiss her boyfriend, then drops her algebra worksheet in his lap, inviting him to check his answers against hers. Soon Archie is groaning dramatically. 

Betty reassures him “Don’t worry, Arch. In real life, there is no algebra.” 

Veronica notices Kevin is scrolling intently on his phone, and perches on the arm of the couch to get a better view. He turns to her with a grin and explains, “On the hunt for a rebound.” Veronica claps her hands in delight and the pair immediately start debating the suitability of the boys on the app. 

“He’s a teen Frank Ocean, Veronica! Imagine that body in some glitter leggings.” 

“Kev, gold guyliner and highlight can cover a multitude of sins. Check his other photos, magpie. You have to be sure that he’s cute under the sparkle.”

Betty lets their voices soothe her, sprawling a bit so that she feels the warmth of Kevin’s body against her leg. She is hyperaware of the chill on her other side, her skin tingling with a remembered touch. At home, at school...there’s always someone she’s missing. 

She takes out her phone, tapping the note folded into its case, and then logs into doityourself.com.

——————————————-

At her desk at the back of the classroom, Toni rests her face in the nest of her arms, her curtain of wavy pink hair hiding her pink headphones. SZA croons in her ear, “Til we hit the heavens,” and Toni imagines herself basking in sunshine, high up on the roof of the Whyte Wyrm.

Unfortunately, she’s brought down to earth by a kick to the metal leg of her chair. She removes one earbud and turns angrily to hiss, “What the fuck, Fangs?” 

“Bell’s about to ring. Wanted to make sure you didn’t sleep through it.” He says, smirking.

“Well, I wasn’t sleeping. Thanks for killing my vibe, though.”

Mr. Summers drones on at the front of the room, reciting lecture notes to the blackboard as though the students are not there. 

“Bell doesn’t ring for another five minutes, Fangs. What’s up?”

“I wanted to tell you: Sweetpea and I won’t be at lunch. We’re going to the newsroom. Grandma found out I’m failing math, so Sweetpea’s gonna help me out with the homework.”

“No shit. You’ll probably fail Civics too. I saw you yesterday, filling the circles on the scantron in the shape of a dick.”

“It’s not my fault I don’t know the answers! It’s Ms. Beazley’s, for having that bedtime voice. It puts me down faster than benzos. Besides, Grandma doesn’t know about that one yet and hopefully she never will.”

“I don’t know why you don’t think of Grandma Fogarty before you do that stupid shit. Anyway, why do I give a fuck that you’re missing lunch?”

The bell rings, and there’s a cacophony of zippers closing and papers rustling and two desks colliding when K.O Kelly knocks down Ramon Ramirez. 

“Because we figured you’d wanna come with us. Since Jones is MIA, and all. And I know you’re on the outs with the rest of the boys.”

Fangs, Sweetpea, and Jughead have been particularly attentive since the New Year’s Eve fiasco, anticipating backlash from her speech. So far, the worst of it has been snide remarks, and Toni is snide right back. It infuriates her that the boys don’t even try to understand her point of view. Even Fangs and Sweetpea don’t get why ending the serpent dance is so important, though they support it because she does. 

Sometimes she really hates being the only female Serpent at this school.

Toni sighs, “Yeah, you figured right. I’ll get the trays, you hit the books.”

Toni spends the first ten minutes of lunch period convincing the cafeteria ladies to give her three burgers. She stops at the vending machine to pick up cans of Sprite and some hot Cheetos, then walks to the Red and Black headquarters. The paper was disbanded before the Sugarman’s demise, once Jughead started wearing the jacket to school, and now the former newsroom is unofficial Serpent territory. 

Fangs is hunched over a worksheet, grumbling under his breath, while Sweetpea leans against the desk and lectures him on polynomials. Toni pats him on the back and says, “Don’t worry, Fangs. In real life, there is no algebra.” Sweetpea glares at her, and she blows him a kiss. 

Toni suspects Sweetpea enjoys these tutoring sessions because he likes reminding people that he’s good for more than brawling. They all know that in the end he’ll let Fangs cheat off him, but he insists on running through the lesson at least once.

She sets the tray on the desk and quickly eats a soggy burger. Then she takes out her headphones and cell phone, noticing that she has two new notifications from Betty Cooper. 

Betty posted an article on Toni’s Facebook wall: “Rescue Snake Gets Special Sweater for Christmas”, captioned,”Your twin!” Toni snickers as she scrolls through the photo gallery of a slithering green snake in a purple sweater. She comments, “A serpent in a cute outfit is twice as deadly. Exhibit A: me.”

Betty has also sent a private message, inviting her to edit a Google Doc. She writes, “Here are my notes from the other night. I’ve added an annotated list of websites that confirm the advice he gave us was sound. I’ve also included a list of the tools we will need. Those marked with stars are available in my Dad’s garage. Those in red will need to be borrowed from Fred. I doubt it will be a problem. Please let me know as soon as we have a confirmed date for the next meeting. Feel free to edit as you see fit!”

Toni can’t even bring herself to tease the blonde for being such a nerd. She can only feel grateful, and even inspired by Betty’s organizational fervor. She decides she’d better get all their Southside ducks in a row, which means she’s got to talk to the Jones’s. From FP, she needs confirmation of the meeting date. And she’s got to convince Jughead to steal his father’s truck.

—————

Toni finds FP at the Whyte Wyrm, in the corner booth with Tall Boy. He steps out of the booth as soon as he spots her, assuming, rightly, that she won’t get within ten feet of that sexist pig. She’d debated whether to give FP a heads up about the demo plans, but seeing him with Tall Boy clinches it: she’s keeping her mouth shut.

“On shift today, Toni?”

“Nope, Maria should be starting at 3. I’m here about the meeting. You promised you’d schedule one, remember? The girls need a set date.”

He raises his eyebrows and rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Hmmmmm…..I’m thinking next weekend. Saturday, maybe.”

“Well, send out the call. And soon. I have planning to do.”

He chuckles a little, and says, “All business these days, aren’t you, kid?”

“Damn right,” she answers, giving a cheeky two finger salute on her way out.

Then she walks across the street to the Jones trailer and knocks briskly on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took longer than expected! I had my first case of writer’s block. Since the chapter is mostly filler, I wanted to end on a Toni & Jughead parallel to the Polly & Betty scene. But it was spiraling out of control, so that scene is coming in the next chapter.
> 
> The line about algebra came from Twin Peaks, the show Toni and Betty watched together. I headcanon that Audrey Horne is Betty’s favorite character because in S1 she is basically Veronica Lodge. ;)
> 
> Toni was initially going to be the math prodigy, but I changed to Sweetpea as an homage to ficmuse’s Sweetpea/Veronica and Betty/Jughead story called Advanced Chemistry, which you should all go read. It’s only one chapter so far but I’m already hooked.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! And please comment to let me know if you’re still interested in this. Also let me know if there’s anything you want more of! <3


	18. Chapter 18

There’s no answer when Toni knocks on the front door, so she sends Jughead a text. She knows he’s home; she can hear slow-strumming guitar and a man singing “Oh, sweet nothing, ain’t got nothing at all…” Jughead Jones is the only resident of Sunnyside Trailer Park who would dare play mopey white boy music at such a high volume. She knocks again, louder this time, then calls his name. No reply. Finally she mutters, “Fuck it,” and gives the door a hard kick. 

Jughead opens the door to glare at her with bloodshot eyes. 

“When someone doesn’t answer the door, that typically means they want to be left alone,” he snaps.

“Jesus, Jones. You look like shit. What’d you catch?”

Jughead gives a sad approximation of a smirk and says, “Oh, just a good old crisis of conscience. Seriously, Toni, I’m not in the mood for company.” 

She gives him a once-over. His black hair stands on end. The bags under his eyes are an odd mix of purple and red. His white tank top and the waistband of his gray sweatpants are speckled pink with milkshake.

“Move aside, I’m coming in.” She elbows him lightly in the chest as she passes.

The coffee table is covered in takeout containers and a mountain of crumpled napkins, and there’s a crushed Pop’s bag on the floor. She raises her brows, gesturing incredulously at the mess.

He shrugs. “I stress eat.”

“So you wanna explain why you skipped? The new English teacher started today; I expected to see you in the front row, making it rain with four-dollar words.”

He crosses his arms. “I’m not in the mood to talk about it.”

“Fight with FP? Drama with Betty?” She waits, but he only stares sullenly. “Ah. You heard about the Archie thing.” It’s a statement, not a question.

He gives that ghoulish smirk again and nods. 

“I should have guessed,” he says, “as soon as you mentioned him the other day.”

She scoffs. “Should’ve guessed? In what universe does a kiss between Archie and Betty seem inevitable? Have you even met Betty?!”

“In my universe. Come on, Toni, it’s a a story as classically American as cheeseburgers and Coca-Cola: childhood best friends, the beautiful girl next door and the handsome football star. I used to figure I was on borrowed time with her, you know? Until she and Archie got their white picket fence.”

“Jug, you just described the plot of a particularly boring Taylor Swift video. Betty and Archie are human beings, not archetypes, not characters in a pop song. Well, I know Betty’s a human being, at least. Archie might be a walking, talking cardboard cutout.” Jughead rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bother to rebuke her. 

Toni continues, “They’re not “meant to be.” I’d be sure of that even if she hadn’t made it clear during vodka-infused girl talk.”

“No, I know…that’s not what’s bothering me, anyway.”

“You better not be pissed that she kissed someone else. I’ll have to deck you for being such a hypocrite.” 

He shakes his head decidedly. “No, no…admittedly, it makes me pretty sick to think about. But Archie was so casual about it, like it was no big deal. He’s a lousy liar. If it meant something to him, or if it changed his relationship with Betty at all...he’d be avoiding me. ”

“So if you know it didn’t mean anything...why do you look like Edward Scissorhands?”

He runs a hand self-consciously through his hair and looks around for his beanie. 

“I guess...I thought they’d be the ones to get the fairy tale ending, you know? And I’d return to my rightful place on the wrong side of the tracks, and that’d be alright, as long as they were happy. As long as they were safe.” He spots his hat on the kitchen counter and pulls it over his head. “Betty and Archie would move on eventually, forget me, since we go to different schools. That night at the Wyrm…I guess…I thought I was giving her a chance at a happily ever after, instead of dragging her into my world.”

His mouth turns down. “But it feels like she’s spending half the week on this side of the tracks-thanks a lot for that, by the way,” he adds sarcastically. “Southside might be shades of Clockwork Orange…but…she’s in it, no matter what I do. And...she’s not getting over me. I did what you said, I checked her phone. She’s still carrying around that note I taped to her Christmas present everywhere she goes…even after she kissed Archie.” His voice turns plaintive as he says, “But she can’t be meant to be with me, because if she is...I took away her happy ending.”

“Jug, that was kind of obvious from all the crying she’s been doing.” He flinches, then stares at the ground. Jughead’s playlist skips to something louder, and a man with a grating rasp sings, “It hasn't been my day for a couple years. What's a couple more?” Toni’s had it with his pity party soundtrack; it’s excessively literal. She kicks a styrofoam container aside as she strides across the room to turn it off.

“Jug, Jug….You’re deluding yourself. And the worst part? I don’t think you even realize that you’re doing it.” She shakes her head in disapproval. He’s her friend. She cares about him, and she doesn’t want him to suffer. But Betty’s her friend too, now, and he’s doing that girl wrong.

“If you truly wanted this breakup to stick? If you truly believed that you weren’t Betty Cooper’s future? You’d stay the hell away from her. You wouldn’t go to Pop’s for burgers with her and Archie. You wouldn’t tape love notes to her Christmas present. And you sure as hell wouldn’t kiss her.”

“I can’t help it, Toni. I’m in love with her. And more than that...I just love her, period. She’s my best friend, the best person I know. She has been since I was four years old. You saw her at New Year’s-she’s fierce and sweet and brave and giving and so beautiful that it seems impossible to me that other people are able to just...go about their day without stopping to stare at her. I know a writer should be able to come up with something less cliche...but I don’t think the words have been invented yet that do justice to Betty Cooper.” He shakes his head and asks incredulously, “What do you want me to do? Just pretend I don’t feel that? Never see her again?”

“Yeah.” Toni answers, unimpressed. “The way I see it, you’ve got two choices. Either you suck it up, say sorry, be a better boyfriend this time around. Or…you let her go. If you’re so convinced that you’re bad news for her, that she’s meant for someone else, let her find that person. Maybe it’s not Archie, maybe it’s some other prep. Maybe it’s another Serpent, even. But she can’t find him if you’re still lurking in the edges of her life, pretending you’re only friends. So delete her number from your phone. Unfollow her on social media. Walk past her booth at Pop’s without stopping, give her a nod when you spot her at the Wyrm with some other guy on her arm. I want you to think about what that life would look like. Really think about it. No more Betty Cooper. Because it’s not fair to keep her in this limbo.”

There’s a long moment of silence. She lets him stew in it. He pulls his hat further down over his ears.

Then Jughead asks tentatively, still staring at his socks. “How do I fix it then?”

Toni grins. Jughead Jones can be a slow learner, for all his sharp wit-he’s a boy, after all-but he always gets there eventually.

“Talk to her. Apologize, explain yourself...that should be a cakewalk, since she’s heard most of your misdeeds from me already, and she doesn’t hate you yet. You know, I never really understood why you had so much trouble telling her about the real shit. You’re a writer. You’re supposed to have a way with words.”

“It’s not like writing a book, where you don’t know the audience. That’s just typing into the void. I can’t hurt the void. The void isn’t going to reject me. The void isn’t going to judge me for being an ass.”

She scoffs. “Well, I’m judging you right now for being a coward. A Serpent never shows cowardice, remember? Grow a fucking spine, Jughead. Betty Cooper deserves better. And you deserve better, too.” She softens her voice. “All those fantasies about Betty’s happy ending? You never said a word about what happens to you, if Betty moves on. I think we both know that it’s not pretty. So stop fighting so hard against happiness. Jug...that girl loves you like you deserve to be loved. And all she wants is for you to show her that you love her back.”

She places an open palm on his shoulder and then pushes him gently into the seat in front of the typewriter. 

“Just give it a go, Jughead. Pretend it’s for the void.”

She doesn’t realize that she’s forgotten to ask about the truck until later, when she’s chasing down the Reillys’ brindle pitbull for the third time this week (Barksdale likes to chew through his leash.) 

No matter, she thinks to herself. She’ll just have Betty do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jughead’s pity party playlist is Accident Prone by Jawbreaker, who I remembered when deciding (@jerebars) posted one of their songs on Tumblr and Oh! Sweet Nothing by the Velvet Underground, who we know Jughead likes in canon because of the sticker on his laptop. Both were prominent parts of my own 15 year old break up mix. I figured Jughead would primarily listen to music from before his time, just like I did in high school as a weird weirdo who didn’t fit in and didn’t want to fit in.
> 
> I’ve been feeling like I’ve lost momentum with this story... Let me know if you think I should take a break to regroup or keep going.


	19. Chapter 19

Betty sets a pair of safety goggles at the top of the crate, humming a Rihanna song under her breath. She stopped by the Andrews’ house after school so Fred could briefly demonstrate the angle grinder (and so she could snoop in his medicine cabinet). Now she is in their dark and cluttered garage, packing up supplies for tomorrow’s construction project.

She bends to lift the box, singing “Lightning strikes every time she moves,” then jerks up when she hears footsteps behind her. She turns to see Jughead Jones, standing with his hands in the pockets of his red Sherpa jacket. His cheeks and nose are flushed from cold, and the dark curls emerging from his gray beanie are slightly damp with snow.

“Hey, Betts,” he says shyly. 

“Um...hey.” She brushes her hands down the front of her burgundy houndstooth jacket to remove any dust or wood shavings. “I think Archie has practice, so...”

“No, no,” he says, “I came for you.”

She bites her lip against the surge of hope in her chest, but then he continues, “I was talking to Toni and-“

“Oh. Oh, I see.” He must be here to transport the supplies to the Whyte Wyrm. To hide her disappointment, she turns towards the driveway, but it’s empty. “Did you bring your dad’s truck?”

“Um, no….I came on my bike. Didn’t know there’d be flurries.” 

“Aah,” she says, “You're here to help with packing. I guess that makes sense: you’ve got bigger muscles than she does, anyway.” She points to the crate. “You can take that one.” He frowns, looking perplexed for some reason, but crouches obediently to lift the box of tools and follows her into the Cooper’s garage. 

“Set it down there,” Betty says, gesturing towards an empty section of wood shelving. Then she searches for rags in the drawers of the blue metal cabinet. Betty always considers cleanup when planning a project -the result of so many years listening to her mother repeat “cleanliness is a virtue” (probably the only virtue Alice Cooper has never abandoned.)

“It’s nice in here,” Jughead observes from behind her, sounding oddly strained. “Warm.”

“Space heaters.” she explains, trying to regulate her voice so that she seems calm and cheerful. “Dad likes to hang out in here.”

“Working on the cars?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes just listening to classic rock radio and drinking Natty Light, I think. Mom won’t let him keep the cheap beer in the kitchen-she says it’s “low class.” But he says he developed a taste for it in college. He stashes it in the mini fridge.”

“I remember he used to keep Yahoos in here, too, when we were kids. When your mom went on that anti-sugar crusade?”

“Yeah, he did.”

To tell the truth, the garage has been as much Betty’s refuge as it is her father’s, and they spent countless hours here together. This is where Betty learned the difference between a torque wrench and an impact wrench, the many uses for a digital caliper. This is where Betty first felt the unique sense of accomplishment that comes from fixing something thought to be ruined, the exhilaration that comes from breaking something down to build it up again, stronger, faster, better. 

The room is bright and airy, as well-kept as the rest of the house. But her mother’s loathing for the smell of motor oil has kept the room largely free of her influence. As a result, there’s not a cottage rose or pastel stripe in sight, and the red chest in the corner holds Polly and Betty’s childhood treasures, the ones not Alice-approved. There are Polly’s drawings, deemed too amateurish for display on the refrigerator door. Betty’s beloved stuffed elephant, with his single black button eye. Betty’s collection of stained t-shirts. It is also where Betty usually keeps her work overalls, the ones she is wearing now. Her mother threatens every so often to throw them away, declaring them “unflattering” (as though the cars will be offended by how her body looks in loose denim). 

She turns to ask Jughead to pass her a plastic bag, and suddenly wishes she was wearing something more form-fitting. Jughead has taken off his hat and coat, and he is looking especially handsome underneath. He’s dressed in the outfit he wore to his father’s sentencing: khakis and a soft hunter green sweater. 

They shopped for the sweater together, she remembers. He’d been so anxious that afternoon, barely letting go of her hand, examining each shirt as though it alone would determine the judge’s ruling. She’d snuck into the dressing room to help him decide, and they’d spent fifteen minutes making out against the mirror. She’d had to wear collared shirts for the next week to cover the bruise he’d made where her neck meets her shoulder.

She steels herself against the memory and drops the bundle of rags into the plastic bag, tying off the top. 

“So...I guess you’re coming to pick the stuff up tomorrow?” she asks in a stilted voice.

He gives her a bemused smile. “Pick what up? Betts, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh...so...Toni didn’t ask you? We wanted to borrow FP’s truck tomorrow. Around 8 AM or so. We have to bring all this over to the Whyte Wyrm.”

“That’s fine, there’s no way he’ll be awake that early. He won’t even notice it’s missing. What’s the big project?”

She hesitates, wondering if Toni intended to keep the plan a secret. But he’ll find out in the morning, anyway. And besides, it’s Jughead. He’s no fan of the serpent dance, and (for good or for ill) he’s the best secret-keeper she knows.

So she takes a deep breath and answers, “We’re taking down one of the stripper poles at the Wyrm. As a message: end the serpent dance or we knock them all over.”

He stares at her, dumbfounded, and she bounces nervously on the balls of her feet. But then his lips curve into an admiring smile, and he laughs.

“Cooper, you’re really something, you know that?”

She shrugs bashfully. “It’s a group effort.”

“A Betty Cooper/Toni Topaz team-up. They don’t know what they’re in for, do they?” He’s still chuckling, shaking his head. It’s been so long since they’ve laughed together that she’s a bit giddy from it.

“They’ll find out tomorrow, that’s for sure.” Then she furrows her brow in confusion. “Wait…if you didn’t come over to help with the prep...why did you?”

He sobers, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to talk...about us.”

She crosses her arms, flooded with a confusing combination of eagerness and dread. She says nothing.

Jughead takes a step closer to her. “Betty...I love you. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and I don’t want to. I’m asking you...to take me back.”

“What about “not wanting me in the crosshairs?” she asks, unmoved.

“I’m sorry. That was a mistake. It was wrong for me to make decisions for you, or act like you can’t take care of yourself. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

She sighs, wanting that to be enough, but knowing it isn’t. “Jug...I want to believe you, but how can I? How do I know you won’t distance yourself from me, next time things get rough on the Southside? You made Toni your partner instead of me, because you think she’s stronger, or she understands life there better than I do. And I had to lean on Archie. We didn’t trust each other, and I won’t be in a relationship without honesty, never again. No more lies. No more hiding or brushing things aside. I get enough of that at home.”

”No, I swear to you.” he says urgently, “I never thought she was stronger than you. And I didn’t lean on Toni because she understands the Southside, not really. I did it because…there’s so much ugliness there. And there’s darkness in me, when I’m there. I was afraid of what would happen if you saw it.”

“What would happen…?”

He lets out a breath. “I don’t know...that I’d make you worry, that I’d bring trouble into your life. That you’d see that you’re too good for me. That you’d leave. I never thought a girl like you would end up with someone like me. ”

“A girl like me? What does that even mean? Jughead Jones, if you say the word ‘perfect’ I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“No, you’re not perfect.” he clarifies with a fond smile. “You’re reckless and you’re righteous and you never give up, even when every force in the universe is telling you that you should. But you’re my dream girl, Betty. And I don’t have a good track record when it comes to my dreams coming true. It seemed too good to be real, that you’d stick around. Dating a weirdo loner from the wrong side of the tracks is bad enough, but a gang member?”

“That’s not all you are, though, Jug. I mean, it’s a part of you, but not the whole of you. And I love who you are, the light and the dark. I don’t know what else I can do to make you see that.”

“I do see it, Betty. Now I do. You don’t have to prove yourself to me.” He takes a deep breath, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded stack of typed pages. “I want to prove myself to you.” He holds them out to her, and she notices his hands are trembling.

“What is that?”

“It’s the story of me and the Southside. Everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve done. I want to share it with you, to prove that I’m ready to let you in.”

She takes the papers from him.

“You’ll have to burn them when you’re done.” he adds. “Some of it is about Serpent business.”

She eyes the pages and then looks at his hopeful face. “I won’t let my mom get her hands on it, don’t worry...But Jug, if we are even going to think about doing this...there’s something I have to tell you first.”

He smiles sadly. “If it’s about Archie, I already know. He let it slip last time we hung out.”

“...You’re not upset?”

“No, Betty. It was probably the scared straight moment I needed, to tell you the truth. I know you don’t want Archie. And...I’m glad he was there for you, at least, when you were scared and you needed someone. But in the future, I want to be the one by your side, the one you call when you’re in trouble. And from now on, I’ll always answer.”

“Juggie, of course I want to be with you. I love you. Like I said at the race, I’ve never stopped and I doubt I ever could. But...it will take some time to trust you again.”

He presses his lips together in regret and gives a nod. “I know it will. Take your time. Read. Think it through. I’ll be waiting, ok? I’ll be ready as soon as you are.”

He leans in slowly, watching her face for any signs of reluctance. She is catapulted back to the memory of their very first kiss, the determined glint in his eye, the gentleness of his lips. She can’t help but lean in to meet him halfway. It’s so brief and soft that it’s barely a kiss, but still, it warms her all over, and when she opens her eyes she sees his face is suffused with wonder.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Juggie.”

His smile is bright and endearingly dorky. “Counting down the minutes, Betts.”

————————-

Later that night, once her parents have fallen asleep, Betty unfolds the stack of typed pages. Though Jughead opens with the words “Dear Betty,” it is like no letter she has ever received: lyrical and evocative as a novel, raw and unflinching as an entry in a diary. 

Jughead writes, “Watching your face as you read a book, holding your body against me in bed, these moments felt too pure and beautiful to exist in the same world as the Serpents and Southside High. I was so afraid of tarnishing our time together with my ugly reality that I tarnished it with lies. So here is the truth.”

He details his first days at Southside High: his shock at the state of the building (decrepit, with graffitied lockers and a metal detector at each door), the student body (nervy, angry, easily bored), the teaching staff (jaded, neglectful, corrupt). He writes of his anxiety and loneliness and bitterness, and then of meeting Toni Topaz, his first and best Southside friend. “I will be forever grateful to her for shepherding me into my new life.”

He describes the warring pride and resentment he feels when his name, his real name, Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, is treated as a badge of honor, after all the years he spent ashamed of it, ashamed of growing up in a trailer park, of being the son of a criminal, a drunk. To the younger Serpents, FP is a mentor, a leader of men, even a hero. They know him in a way that Jughead never has and never will, and he envies them that knowledge. 

He reveals what it was like to watch a beaten man bleed on the carpet of his trailer, thanks to his own casual questions. “I threw up in the kitchen sink after they left,” he writes, “An author should understand the power of words. But I never fully understood their power until that night.” And he details what it was like to be beaten himself. “Burning with rage and humiliation, I realized that I had two choices: join the Serpents or perish. Only a gang can keep another gang at bay.”

The hardest paragraphs for Betty to read are those that outline the gauntlet and its aftermath. Tears fill her eyes as she reads, “I’ve been a loner for as long as I can remember, but never faced true loneliness until Archie told me that the two of you were done with me. It was my worst fear, realized. And yet there was something freeing in having nothing left, nothing to hold onto from my old life. A part of me died that night, and something new was born.”

“Toni kissed me, and it was like she was telling me, “This is who you are, who you were always meant to be: a Serpent, your father’s son, one of us now. You’ll never be alone again.” Yet along with the comfort of belonging came the heavy weight of responsibility: if these are my people, if they are all I have left, I must protect them, and the only way to protect them is to embrace the only law of this lawless land: violence.”

“Violence,” he writes, “is ubiquitous here. As each day passes, I find myself becoming comfortable with it in ways that frighten me. I grow accustomed to the adrenaline rush of holding the steering wheel of a speeding car, a box full of drugs, a switchblade-even eager for it. I put the knife to Penny Peabody’s inked forearm, and it felt like justice. It wasn’t.”

“My father is free now, and he tries to keep me away from this aspect of Serpent business. He tells me that I have choices, a chance at a better life. But that is the worst thing he can say, because if I have choices, if I had a choice, then how can I justify the things I have done, the people I hurt? I raged at him, I told him I was proud to be a Serpent, because I cannot take back any of it-even if I want to.”

“I wanted to spare you that. I wanted you safe, first and foremost, but I also wanted to spare you this exhausting mixture of self-loathing and self-righteousness, regret and pride. But I see now that danger and cynicism and fear are not exclusive to life on the Southside. You have discovered them on your own. And I will never forgive myself for not being by your side when you did. I protected my father and the Serpents, but I left you without protection. I swear that I will never do so again.”

“I am not the Jughead Jones I was when I climbed through your window and kissed you that first time, anymore than you are that Betty Cooper. I have become a participant in life now, when I was an observer. I have learned that there is a darkness inside of me, and I must work to keep it in check. But regardless of those changes, one thing remains the same: I love you, Betty Cooper, my defender, my dearest friend, my Juliet.”

“I am in awe of your brilliant, exacting mind. I am humbled by your loyalty to the people you love. I am full of admiration for your relentlessness in pursuit of truth and justice. I am haunted by the memory of your gorgeous body, equally beautiful in overalls and in black lace. I find all your mannerisms adorable: the way you stick out your tongue when you take a red pen to my writing, the brightness that enters your eyes when you have a new idea, even the way you sit, spine straight as though you’re balancing a book on your head.”

“I have made mistakes, and I cannot erase them. But I can promise you that I will do my level best not to repeat them. Let me prove it to you.”

Betty runs her fingers over the signature at the bottom of the page: “Love, Jug,” written in pen where the rest was typed. Then she uses nail scissors to cut away any incriminating text, burning it to ash, hiding the rest in her hollowed-out copy of The Odyssey. And finally, she picks up her phone and texts him: “Come over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the encouragement-especially AdamantEve & Theatreofexpression, who went the extra mile to walk me through my first case of writer’s block. AdamantEve recommended soldiering through, so that’s what I tried to do! 
> 
> I tried to make Jughead’s letter as extra as possible because you know that boy is the most melodramatic person in that town (possibly tied with Cheryl Blossom.) Hope it does not disappoint ;)


	20. Chapter 20

Jughead can’t climb through Betty’s bedroom window tonight; the white ladder is folded up next to the other supplies set aside for the Whyte Wyrm. So Betty throws a winter coat over her pajamas, wraps a knit blanket around her shoulders, and tiptoes through the side door to the garage. She tenses when the hinge creaks, though she is ready with a cover story if her parents wake up (she plans to blame her midnight stroll on a nightmare about the Black Hood, making her parents too uncomfortable to chastise her).

Betty waits, but she hears no footsteps. So she turns on the space heater and tosses her coat and blanket into the Thunderbird’s backseat.

It’s a fifteen minute drive from here to Jughead’s bed at the Sunnyside Trailer Park. She checks her phone; it’s been six minutes since he answered her text. At loose ends, she paces the length of the room four times, then sits down on the hood of the car and worries the top button of her blue flannel shirt. She has an internal debate over how many buttons to undo, eventually settling on three. She briefly considers stealing a Natural Light from the mini-fridge in order to calm her nerves, but discards the idea when she remembers: Jughead is going to kiss her, and he won’t like the taste of cheap beer on her tongue.

Suddenly giddy, she smiles so widely that it hurts her cheeks.

Jughead is going to kiss her.

Her phone beeps, and she peeks out the small square window to watch Jughead walk up the drive. He appears to be talking to himself, (psyching himself up, maybe, or reciting a speech) and Betty’s face is lit with amusement and delight when she opens the door to wave him inside. As soon as he spots her, he picks up the pace, halfway to a full jog by the time he reaches the doorway.

He halts a step away, looking at her with soft blue eyes. 

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hey.” He’s watching her, tense and expectant, and she realizes that she hasn't actually responded to what he asked in his letter.

“Can’t you tell from my face?” she teases. “Yes, Juggie, yes.” He lets out a long breath. “As long as you keep your promises, we can get back together.” There’s a moment where he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his body, so she reaches for his hands and pulls him inside.

And then they’re kissing, her hands on his jaw, his hands on her waist, one kiss becoming two becoming three, interrupted by their smiles.

“I missed you,” he breathes against her lips.

“I missed you, too, Juggie. Come. Sit. Talk with me.” She opens the door of the Thunderbird and motions him inside. He sits on the wide bench seat and pulls her into his lap, wrapping the white Afghan around her. There’s a moment of quiet in which she savors the beat of his heart against her palm, the pine soap smell of his skin. She feels the tight muscles in her shoulders loosen. 

In the backseat, they kiss, and talk, and kiss some more, and it feels like the date they never had, in the dark lot of the Twilight. Betty tells him about her friendships with Toni and the other Serpent girls, describing the genesis of their plan to end the dance, and his chest rumbles with proud laughter. She recounts her recurring nightmares, and he kisses the top of her head in sympathy. Sliding his palms up and down her back, Jughead complains about his father’s increased drinking, noting that the trailer seems somehow even lonelier since FP’s return. He runs his hands through her hair, and tells her about the book he just finished, how it straddles the line between true crime and memoir, how it’s making him rethink his own writing. 

For the first time in a long time, their conversation does not feel like a game of catch-up they will never win, because each new horror in their lives arrives with another horror nipping at its heels. There is no sense of urgency, only peace. And when 2 AM rolls around, Betty does not lament “parting is such sweet sorrow.” Instead, she says, “I have to go to bed, Juggie: it’s dangerous to operate power tools when sleep-deprived. But what we didn’t say-or do-tonight, we can do tomorrow, ok?” 

He kisses her goodbye, then kisses her twice more for good measure as he walks backwards out the door, promising he’ll return at 8 AM sharp.  
.  
——————————-

At 7:42 AM, Toni Topaz leans against the side of FP’s truck, halfway through typing a “hurry your scrawny ass up” text to Jughead when he exits the trailer. 

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Toni urges, as he shrugs on his Serpent jacket and unlocks the car door.

“We’re going!” he says, but he sounds more eager than sarcastic. She eyes him suspiciously, and he grins at her outright.

“What has you so chipper this morning?” 

“Oh, I just had a good night, is all.”

“Alright…well, I’m glad, if it means you’re ready for manual labor.”

She turns on the radio, flipping stations until she finds the latest Cardi B. She’s rapping along with the chorus when she realizes that Jughead hasn’t chimed in with his usual lecture on what constitutes “real music.” She looks over and sees he’s grinning at the open road, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along with the beat. 

“You coy fuck. You got back together with Betty!”

He smiles smugly. “Yup.”

“What, I don’t get a thank you? I should make you pay me a matchmaking fee.”

“Fuck off, Topaz,” he laughs. “I’m going to play errand boy for you girls all day; consider that my payment.”

“Pssh,” she scoffs, “you’d be our errand boy anyway.”

Jughead parks in front of the Andrews’ house, and he’s out of the truck before Toni can even unfasten her seatbelt. By the time she’s walked onto the Cooper’s driveway, he has Betty bent back in a soldier-back-from-war kiss. Feeling magnanimous, she gives them sixty seconds before interrupting with a loud whistle. 

“Chop, chop, horndogs! There’s work to be done.”

Betty snaps to attention, disentangling herself from a grumbling Jughead and dragging him towards the garage. Soon the pair are huffing and puffing as they carry tools, a ladder, safety gear, and cleaning supplies to the truck bed.

Toni declares that she has to stay by the car, since she is supervisor and lookout. Betty and Jughead are too content this morning to object, even though there’s no one to watch for; the streets are quiet and all the houses are still dark. The only neighbor awake is an old man retrieving his newspaper from his frosted front lawn. He scowls at Toni suspiciously, and she snaps, “Fuck off, cryptkeeper,” turning so that he has a clear view of the snake patch on her jacket. 

Once the cargo is loaded, the trio squeeze into the truck. Though Toni is by far the smallest, she shoves Betty into the middle seat, and the blonde spends the next fifteen minutes with her hand on Jughead’s thigh. Toni is too excited to tease her; when they turn onto 3rd Avenue, she rolls down the window and lets out a jubilant whoop. 

A crowd of Serpent girls (plus Sweetpea, Fangs, and Bridget’s pitbull) is ready and waiting outside the Whyte Wyrm when they arrive. Toni immediately puts Jughead in charge of Pop’s orders, and Betty hands him a roll of bills from her poker stash to pay. She sets Sweetpea and Fangs to unloading the truck, and instructs Maria to make some Bloody Mary mix.

Toni sends Cricket and Ginger to the Mazda on lookout duty. “If it seems like people can hear the pole coming down, or if anyone tries to come into the Wyrm who might stop us, turn your car radio up loud.” Finally, she crouches to scratch Barksdale behind the ears. As the pitbull lolls his tongue happily, she tells Bridget, “If we need a distraction, I’ll whistle. Then you start screaming your head off that Barksdale got loose, and hopefully they’ll give chase instead of coming after us.”

———————-

Forty-five minutes later, Betty is balanced on a ladder, already having sawed halfway through the upper edge of the metal pole. Betty is wearing a lavender t-shirt, oversized denim overalls, and a hideous pair of safety goggles, but Jughead is mooning at her like she’s dressed in lingerie.

Toni sucks the last bit of Bloody Mary through her straw and snickers at him. “The Demolition Barbie thing is really working for you, isn’t it, Jug?”

He shrugs, unashamed. “It’s Betty. Of course it is.”

Betty asks, “A little help, please?” as metal slices through a last sliver of metal and the pole starts to tilt. 

Jumping off the barstool, Jughead says, “I think you’re supposed to yell ‘Timber!”, then rushes to help Maria (the designated spotter) steady the pole so that it won’t fall towards Betty. The blonde grins down at him from her perch, blowing him a thank you kiss, and he smiles back up at her. 

Then Jughead’s phone starts to vibrate violently on the bartop. Toni glances at the screen, where a young FP is holding a dark-haired toddler on his shoulders, and decides to answer.

“Hey, FP, it’s Toni. Jug’s...occupied right now.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and she can hear female shrieks in the background, so Toni asks awkwardly, “Um...is there a problem?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a problem, kid. I’ve got Alice Cooper at my door. She says that her neighbor told her that the Southside Serpents kidnapped her daughter and robbed her garage this morning. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

“I’m going to assume that’s a yes.”

“Betty and Jug are here with me at the Wyrm, but you can’t come yet-“

The shrieking is now joined by steady banging.

“Toni, I told her I needed a minute to get dressed, but nudity has never stopped Hurricane Alice before.” Toni grimaces. “Jesus fucking Christ, she’s gonna knock that damn door down. I’ll stall, but whatever you’re doing, wrap it up fast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and an extra thank you to those of you who are commenting!!!!!!


	21. Chapter 21

Toni ends the call and shouts, “Everybody stop what you’re doing and listen!” Betty stumbles on the ladder, and Jughead sets a steadying hand on her elbow.

“That was FP.” Toni explains. “Your neighbor spotted us this morning. He must’ve told Alice Cooper that we carried you off to our evil lair to use as a virgin sacrifice.”

“Oh God, oh God...” Betty says, pulling off her safety goggles in a panic.

“Should we make a run for it?” asks Jughead, half-joking.

“The roof?” suggests Maria.

“The pole is only half cut.” Betty answers. “What are we going to do, just let the top part sway?”

A radio outside blasts a Halsey song at a hundred decibels.“That’s Cricket’s warning.” Toni faces Betty. “Can you talk your way outta this? We have to finish before the meeting.”

Betty shrugs. “It’s hit or miss. But I can try.” 

“Ok. Here’s the plan.” Toni says. “Maria, you hold the pole straight. Let’s hope they don’t notice the tools. Nobody say a fucking word about what we’re doing here, about the Serpent dance, and especially about the meeting tonight. Betty and me will do the talking. Jug, spread the word to the rest of the crew: mouths stay shut.” She hands him his phone and he obediently begins typing. 

The front door bangs against the wall as Alice Cooper strides into the Whyte Wyrm. She is elegantly dressed in a tan cashmere coat and navy slacks, but the expression on her face is feral. FP follows close behind her, hair disheveled, looking long-suffering. He wears a white undershirt and jeans-no Serpent jacket and no shoes, either. 

Alice inhales deeply, making Toni think of a dragon preparing to breathe fire, but before she can speak, FP nods towards Betty and says, “What’d I tell you, Alice? Safe and sound.”

“Elizabeth Cooper, why was Mr. Blake at my doorstep this morning-before I even finished my Earl Grey, mind you-telling me that a band of leather-clad burglars had snatched my youngest daughter? You terrified that poor man. We’re lucky he didn’t call Sheriff Clueless to report you missing. Do you have no consideration for what’s left of our reputation in this town? And why did you not answer your phone? I called you three times.”

“Mom, take a breath. I’m fine, everything’s fine, I must have left my phone off. It happens. Don’t listen to Mr. Blake, he’s a paranoid old man. Remember that time he made Archie and Mr. Andrews check his basement because he was convinced he had squatters? And it turned out to be a possum in his washing machine?”

“And yet here you are, in a den of iniquity, surrounded by juvenile delinquents-“ There’s a chorus of affronted “Hey!’s” from the teens “-and if I’m not mistaken, that’s your father’s ladder.”

There’s a beat of silence. Unfortunately, Maria chooses that moment to lean too hard on the pole. It tilts, and she skids backwards.

The teenagers watch with horror as FP and Alice take note of the sliced metal, the position of the ladder, and the tools on the ground. FP puts it all together first, and starts to chuckle.

“I can explain,” insist Toni and Betty in unison, as Alice cries, “What in God’s name-?”

Betty takes a deep breath and tightens her ponytail. “Well...well, actually we came up with the idea because of you, Mom. Toni overheard you talking about the serpent dance, how egregious and, and how immoral it is, and we wanted to stop it-“ 

She makes pleading eye contact with Toni, who hopes she sounds at least a little sincere as she says, “Yeah, Mrs. Cooper, I was...inspired! By you! To make a grand gesture! So we decided to remove the pole altogether. To take a stand. And since Betty is so good with tools…”

“Fred taught me how to use them,” Betty adds. “And I got his permission, I swear.” 

By now FP is bent over with laughter, slapping his leg, but the girls and Jughead remain tense and quiet.

“Come on, Alice.” FP says, “You of all people should understand how...effective some good old property damage can be, when a girl wants to send a message.” Alice turns sharply to scowl at him, and he smirks back, licking his lips.

“I suppose that makes sense, Betty” she admits, twirling back to face her daughter, who is twisting her hands together nervously, “though you girls ought to have asked FP to oversee the renovation. You did used to run a construction company, didn’t you, FP?” She gives him a caustic smile. 

FP opens his mouth to retort, then catches Toni’s eye and closes it again; she is silently begging him not to reveal why they kept him out the loop. If Alice Cooper discovers they’ve done this without official approval, let alone that a brawl broke out the last time they broached the subject...well, Toni figures they’d be safer in the blastzone of one of Sweetpea’s pipe bombs. 

Alice continues, “Oh, but I can tell by the smell of you that you can’t be trusted with dangerous machinery. Off the wagon again, FP?” 

“Watch it, Alice. You poke a snake with a stick, it bites. And I know enough of your secrets to make it sting, I promise you.”

“Mom! How could you say such a thing?” Betty cries, wrapping her arms around her scowling boyfriend. “Stop it! I’m the one you’re angry with, not him.”

Ignoring the exchange, Toni says, “It was important to us to have a woman do the job. For symbolism, you know?”

“Hmmmm. It’s a shame I can’t run a story about it in the Register,” Alice says tartly, removing her winter coat to reveal a cream sweater with bows adorning the sleeves. “Gangland feminism? The absurdity of the headline alone would probably sell a few papers. But the last thing I want is for people to find out that my child is an aspiring gun moll.”

“So we can finish?”

Alice huffs. “Fine. Betty, get on with it, but be careful. I’ll supervise. And loosen the straps of those goggles before you put them back on. They leave hideous red creases on your face.” Alice perches onto a barstool and crosses her legs, ordering a Bloody Mary from Maria. Jughead and FP escape to the back office, with Toni a few steps behind. 

When she enters the room, FP is stretched across the couch watching Jughead pace, squeezing a pillow in his fists.

“-she think she can talk to you like that? In Serpent territory, even! It’s not ok, Dad.” 

FP yawns, pulling the blanket over his body. “Jughead, I’ve known Alice Cooper for 42 years. She’s been a terror since kindergarten class, a biter, did you know that? Used to chase the other kids down and chomp on ‘em. I would’ve keeled over from sheer exhaustion by now if I worked myself up over every little thing that woman says. You calm down, now. Go out there and take care of your girl. I’ll deal with Alice myself...later.”

Jughead nods sullenly and exits, and Toni says tentatively, “FP...I’m sorry.”

“You ought to be,” he chides. “I’ve got a splitting headache.”

“We had to do it ourselves. If you knew, it would be more ammunition for Tall Boy to use against you.”

FP huffs and shakes his head. “Don’t try that line with me, girl. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to risk me stopping you.”

Toni shrugs sheepishly, and FP laughs. “I’ll back you tonight. That is, if Alice doesn’t find out about the meeting first and use that saw out there to cut us through.”

Toni lets out a relieved breath.

“But you gotta do me a favor.”

“Anything, FP.”

“Go across the street and get my coat and boots. It’s too damn cold to go back out there half-dressed.”

“You got it.”

—————

Betty is kneeling on the hardwood floor, angrily adjusting the strap of her plastic goggles when Jughead emerges from the office.

“Here, Betts,” Jughead says from above her, holding a bed pillow. She eyes it quizzically, and he smiles as he explains. “To protect your knees.” She tugs on his jeans so that he crouches beside her, kissing his cheek in gratitude. From the corner of her eye she can see her mother glaring, probably thinking of other occasions when Jughead’s offered Betty a pillow for her knees, so Betty cups his face in her hands and gives him a deeper kiss.

“I know we shouldn’t provoke her,” Jughead mumbles against her lips, “but I can’t bring myself to stop you.” He kisses her again.

At the bar, ice clinks ominously against glass. They pull apart, and Betty pulls the goggles over her face. 

By the time she saws through the outer edge of the metal, the room has filled with Serpent girls. Maria is pouring water into a bowl for Barksdale, who nips at the dangling bleached ends of her dark hair, and Jughead has taken her place as spotter. Fangs and Sweetpea are outside, ostensibly helping Cricket and Ginger watch for Tall Boy, but most likely flirting. Bridget and Lottie stand beside Betty, ready to catch the pole before it falls.

Toni climbs onto a chair and claps her hands together, ordering them to each lift one end of the pole.“It needs to go somewhere conspicuous,” Toni says. She looks around, tapping her lips with her index finger, then decides. “On the pool table.” Jughead rushes to move billiard balls and the rack out of the way, and Betty reminds the girls to watch out for the sharp edges. Together, Lottie and Bridget set the stripper pole down on the green felt. There’s a burst of applause and some whoops of triumph, and Toni bows with a flourish. 

Betty does not register the clamor. She is focused on smoothing the metal stump that still protrudes from the stage. She purses her lips with dissatisfaction; despite her best efforts, there is no way to make it level with the floor. She hears the tap-tap-tap of high heels, and she automatically straightens her spine, her body recognizing her mother’s footsteps even before her mind does.

“That’s a broken neck waiting to happen. Especially in this crowd of inebriates.”

“I’m trying my best, Mom. I know it’s a safety hazard.”

Her mother sighs.

“Oh, Betty. We’ll buy a potted plant to hide the metal. A ficus, maybe. Come with me. We need to talk.”

——————-

Betty climbs into her mother’s sedan, turning on the car radio in hopes of forestalling a lecture. Stevie Nick’s voice sings of what you had and what you lost, and her mother reaches out to click it off. She gestures towards her daughter’s cheek, still lined with red from the goggles. 

“Did you bring some cover up?”

Betty rolls her eyes. “No one cares about the marks, Mom. And no, I didn’t bring makeup with me to a demolition session.”

“Betty...I only want you to look your best, to make a good impression. You act like that’s a crime. Do you know what I would have given when I was your age to have a mother show me what lipsticks flatter my complexion? To take me shopping for school clothes? I had no mother looking out for me, just a father who was stone drunk most of the time.”

“No, I don’t know, Mom. Because you never talk about your mother. You never talk about your past. I didn’t even know you were from the Southside, let alone a Serpent until last month.”

“And that’s a sign of how effective keeping up appearances can be. Betty…” She sighs, tapping a mauve-painted nail on the steering wheel. “My secrets are out, but if what people see with their eyes does not match what they think they know...people forget. And that’s armor, Betty. That’s real protection. You want to throw all that away so you can dress up in leather and slum it with those hoodlums back there?”

“They’re my friends, Mom. And Jughead is the love of my life. I’m not slumming it, and how can you even say that? You were a Serpent! Was Dad slumming it with you?”

“He would have been, if I’d insisted on wearing that jacket around. But he knew I wanted something different from my life.” They’ve reached the train tracks, the unofficial divide between Northside and South. Her mother pulls over and parks parallel with the tracks.

“You think that leather jacket will protect you, will give you some kind of power?”

“No, Mom, that’s not why-.”

“That jacket...that power isn’t real. I was 13 when I degraded myself on that stage, and I thought it meant no one was going to push me around ever again, that I didn’t need parents, I had other people to take care of me now. And sure, we raised each other, like a pack of wild dogs, maybe, but we did. I had guaranteed pocket money selling drugs, the bullying got less public. Ricky Mantle and Clifford Blossom used to drive around throwing empty beer cans at Southside kids from their car, but knew they’d get a beating from Hog Eye if they tried that on a Serpent girl.”

“But Betty, Betty…I walked into Riverdale High and everyone looked at me like I was white trash. Mrs. Higglebottom still gave me detention for plagiarizing my essay-because she couldn’t believe that a Southsider knew how to use the word “expurgate” in a sentence. I was still shadowed by the shop girl whenever I went into Florrie’s Dress Shop. And the minute the Bulldogs got tired of losing one rumble too many? They could call their Mom and Dad and Hog Eye would do a year in Shawshank. All that power the Serpents think they have? It’s gone, the minute we cross these tracks.”

“But then I met your father. And when I walked into Florrie’s with him? The shopgirl rushed over to fawn over my blue eyes and recommend colors that would complement them. He took me on real dates, to Pop’s, and once to this French restaurant in Greendale with candles and white tablecloths. Before him, you know what a date was? Sitting right here on the hood of some rundown truck, drinking Natty Light and tossing the empty bottles at the passing train.” Betty stares, wide-eyed, struggling to reconcile this image with the woman in front of her. She stays still and quiet, afraid that the slightest movement will make her mother realize that she’s sharing the secrets of her past.

“The Coopers taught me the power of reinvention, of controlling the story. That’s real power, Betty. That’s what will save you in this world. People look at you and they see respectability. If they see a sweet, intelligent girl, they will treat you like a sweet, intelligent girl. They pick you to speak at the Jubilee, they make you Prom Queen. And you’re going to throw that away!”

“Mom, I’m not doing this for power. I’m doing it for Jughead. And Toni, and my other friends. And I’m not a criminal! I’m just hanging out on the Southside every once in awhile. And already we’ve done something good! You wanted the dance outlawed, and we’re making that happen!”

Her mother doesn’t seem to be listening. She’s shaking her head, holding a hand over her eyes. “I have a made a lot of mistakes in my life, and I’ve had to watch my daughters repeat them. First Polly, pregnant. And now you, on that stage, in that jacket.”

“I’m not you! Polly is not you! It’s not 1996, it’s 2017, Mom. Riverdale is a different town. Being a Cooper isn’t failsafe protection, either. It didn’t protect me from the Black Hood, it made me a target.”

“That’s one man, Betty.”

“He was a symptom! Of a larger problem: the judgment and the lies, the secrets, the pretense? They cost me my sister. And they almost cost me Jughead.”

“Don’t say a word to me about your sister.”

“She’s gone, Mom! She’s never coming back.”

Alice lets out a sob, running her fingers under her eyes to catch any tears before they make mascara tracks. Betty pities her, but she can’t stop. She’s been carrying this anger for too long.

“Because of you, and Dad, and all the secrets. She doesn’t want to pretend anymore. And I don’t either. I’m tired of it, Mom. I need you to let me live my life. Or I can’t guarantee I won’t follow Polly’s example.”

“Is that a threat? How dare you say that to me? Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to protect you. Because I love you, and I know what’s best for you.”

“I love you, too, Mom. But I need a break. I need you to loosen the leash, just a little. Let me hang out with my friends. Let me go on a date with my boyfriend tonight. I’m not selling drugs, I’m not becoming a stripper. I promise. I promise. Please, Mom.”

Her mother sniffs, looking at the clear, blue sky for a long, charged moment. Finally she sighs and says, “Your curfew is still ten o’ clock. You’re not to wear that jacket outside the Whyte Wyrm. And if I hear you’ve been getting into trouble with those miscreants, you will regret it.”

“Deal. And we can still get a plant? For the bar?”

Her mother starts the ignition, turning on the Bluetooth. “I found a podcast on the future of digital media, Betty. Pay attention, try to learn something. It’s a half hour to the nursery in Greendale.” Betty rests her head against the window, watching the pines blur as they drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The nosy neighbor is named Mr. Blake after the neighbor in the wonderful fic by Anonymous “Roy Orbison singing for the lonely.” It’s part of the “thunder road” series which is a balm on my soul. Such a sweet representation of the Core 4 being teenagers and actual friends.
> 
> Sorry for the delay in posting this! Alice Cooper was more difficult to write than I anticipated. Thanks again to everyone who gave kudos and comments! I love hearing your thoughts.


	22. Chapter 22

Betty stifles a yawn, taking a seat on a wrought iron bench and resting her head against the billowing blue robe of a stone Madonna. Cutting down a stripper pole and then defusing an Alice Cooper meltdown apparently require more energy than six hours of sleep can provide. 

Yet Betty’s tiredness feels different from the kind that’s haunted her these past few weeks. It is not the exhaustion that follows night terrors and crying jags; there is no sore jaw from grinding teeth, no sore back from tensing shoulders, there are no sore palms from clenching fists. Now all her muscles are loose; she’s blissed out with the satisfaction of a job well done and the memory of Jughead’s arms around her. The air smells of soil and mulch and evergreen and cold, and she closes her eyes and breathes it in, at peace.

She opens them again when she hears snapping fingers and a snapping voice, “That one, right there.” Her mother is barking orders from the dead center of the aisle, where she won’t brush up against any leaves or sacks of fertilizer. The gardener fiddles nervously with the metal button of his green overalls and asks, “The wintergreen weeping fig, Ma’am?” 

Alice taps her nail against her phone screen and says, “That is the ideal indoor tree for low light, is it not? That’s what this article from Home & Garden magazine says.”

“Yes, it is ideal for dimly lit rooms, ma’am.” 

“Well, wrap it up, then. I’ll take all the necessary accessories, as well, and a list of care instructions clear enough for the...recipients. How’s your penmanship?”

“My penmanship? Good, but I... Well, we have typed booklets available with instructions, ma’am.”

“Those little books are far too easy to lose. I’d like you to write them out in large print on a piece of paper and tape it to the pot. Neatly, please.”

The worker looks befuddled, but he does not dare to gainsay her. As he rushes past, Betty gives him a sympathetic smile and a shrug.

“Betty, would you like to go home first? Change out of that outfit before your date?” Betty can somehow hear the quotes around the word “outfit;” her mother really hates the overalls.

Betty is not particularly concerned about her clothing; neither Jughead nor the Serpents seemed to mind it. But she nods her head anyway, to placate her mother. She knows Alice is uncomfortable with the idea of Betty at the Wyrm, but she’s allowing it because she does not want to lose another daughter. If a pink cardigan reminds her mother that friendship with the Serpents doesn’t make her any less of a Cooper, Betty will put on a pink cardigan. 

——-

Back in her bedroom in Riverdale, Betty finally turns on her phone. She kept it off first because she did not want any distractions when she had a power tool in hand and later because she did not want her mother to read her texts over her shoulder.

Sure enough, she has a dozen unread messages in “The KVB”, her group chat with Kevin and Veronica. They are all in response to the one she sent this morning: “Jughead and I are back together *smiley face emoji*” 

Most of the messages are gifs of falling confetti (one featuring a corgi in a party hat) and repeating exclamation points. Veronica asks, “Was there groveling? There better have been groveling.” And Kevin writes, “#Bugheadisback! I.need.details. Did he get down on his knees? *winkyface emoji*” 

Betty chuckles a little as she crafts her answer. She describes Jughead’s letter-omitting any mention of criminal activity and focusing instead on his lavish compliments-and their makeout session in the back of her dad’s vintage car. “Facetime later? I’m meeting Jughead at the Whyte Wyrm now.” She feels giddy at the thought.

During the car ride back to Southside, her mother notices her smile and says, “I told you that you’d like this podcast, Betty. I’m sure you’ll find the interview tips useful at the Blue & Gold.” Betty wonders if her mother ever felt this way: so in love, so awestruck that he loves her too, that it feels like happiness is radiating from her skin like a nimbus.

As they pull over next to the Whyte Wyrm, Betty sees Jughead is already outside, talking to Sweetpea next to Cricket’s car. Before she can roll down the window to greet him, her mother has opened the door and started to walk over to the group. 

“You!” she shouts, making Jughead jump and Sweetpea drop half of the loose tobacco he was rolling into paper. “Unstrap that tree from my car and move it inside.”

Jughead obediently jogs over the Cooper’s sedan, though he stops to kiss Betty hello. Sweetpea balks, at least until Alice says sharply, “Yes, I mean you, giant with the neck tattoo.” Then he follows Jughead, grumbling under his breath as she continues, “You know that will make you unemployable at any respectable establishment, young man. This should be good practice for your future in manual labor.” Jughead chuckles at the furious look on Sweetpea’s face, and Betty elbows him gently in the stomach, whispering, “Have some sympathy!”

“What?” Jughead asks with laughter in his voice. “It’s nice to see someone else get the Alice Cooper treatment every once in a while.”

Together, the boys carry the plant into the bar and place it on top of the cut metal. Then Betty takes over, removing the protective wrapping and handing the instructions to Toni, who has been observing all of this with an arched eyebrow and a smirk. Alice insists Toni tape the instructions up behind the bar, and grills her until she is sure that Toni is capable of caring for greenery. Once Alice has decided that everything is set up to her satisfaction, she turns to Jughead. 

“I will have your hide,” she warns, “if anything happens to my daughter in this cesspool. I do not want to hear any rumors on the other side of town about Betty fraternizing with Serpents either. As you know, curfew is 10 o’clock sharp. Not 10:02.”

“Yes, Mrs. Cooper,” he nods while Toni and Sweetpea snicker.

When the older blonde finally exits the bar, Jughead lets out his breath in a whoosh. Toni says, “Betty, your mother is…”

“Yeah,” Betty says with a sigh. “I know.”

Jughead grabs her by the hand and starts leading her to the back office. “If anybody asks, we’re not here.”

“-unless it’s an emergency! Like Tall Boy,” Betty adds, letting herself be dragged away. Toni salutes in agreement, grinning at them.

They’ve barely made it through the door before Jughead is kissing her, lifting her into his arms and setting her on the edge of the desk. She wraps her legs around his hips and gasps as he moves his lips to her neck.

“I missed you, Juggie” she sighs.

He pulls back and looks at her tenderly, caressing the side of her face. “I missed you, too.”

———-

Later, they are curled up together on the couch; Betty’s hair is loose and her pink cardigan is crumpled on the floor under his beanie. Jughead can’t seem to stop touching her, running his fingers up and down her arms, nuzzling her hair. 

“I never want to move,” he says.

“We have a while, I think.” She pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, hanging over the arm of the couch, and checks the time.

“Meetings start at 8, right? We still have plenty of time.” 

When Betty moves to return her phone to her pocket, Jughead holds her wrist to stop her, touching her phone case, where a scrap from his letter has joined the gift tag from Christmas.

“Don’t worry,” she assures him, “it’s nothing incriminating, just the paragraph about me.”

“No, I know...it’s only…I wondered why do you keep it there?”

She inhales sharply but says nothing, reluctant to break the mood. But then she remembers Polly insisting, “You can’t run away from the things that hurt you.”

Haltingly, she explains, “The Black Hood…he made me start to dread the sound of my phone ringing... Even the sight of the mail makes me nervous, now. I hope the mailman doesn’t notice and get hurt feelings.” She jokes weakly, and Jughead clutches her tighter, holding his breath. “I changed my ringtone, and that made it a little better, but I still get a lump in my throat when my phone vibrates, every once in awhile. It helps, somehow, to see your words. It reminds me that he didn’t win: he didn’t hurt you, you’re still here, whole and safe, and so am I. And we still love each other.”

Jughead kisses the top of her head. “I’ll always love you, Betty. You’ll never have to go through anything like that alone, not ever again. Ok? I’m here now.”

She smiles. “I know you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done, I think! Next chapter is the meeting and then an epilogue. :) Thanks for reading! And extra thanks to those who give kudos and comments.


	23. Chapter 23

Toni knocks impatiently on the door to the Whyte Wyrm office. Jughead opens it just a crack, pulling his hat over his messy black curls. 

“Jug, I need your girl.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be out in five minutes.” 

Toni hears rustling from inside the office, and then Betty calls, “Be right there, Toni!” 

Jughead smirks smugly, and Toni rolls her eyes, snorting. When Betty finally emerges, smoothing her hair with one hand and clutching her tote with the other, Toni grasps her elbow and pulls her towards the pool table, where all the female Serpents have congregated.

“So I’m guessing things are back to being flowers and rainbows between you and Jughead?”

Betty’s smile is incandescent. “It feels even better than before. Like, we’re finally being totally open with each other, totally vulnerable. Things are so good, Toni.”

“Like...pop your cherry kinda good?”

Betty gasps out a shocked, “Oh my god!” and laughs.

Toni puts her hands up, palms facing out. “Hey, I’m not judging! It’s a time honored tradition to lose your virginity in the Whyte Wyrm. Plenty of Serpents have done it. I lost mine on the roof, during the July 4th party. To the incredibly sexy Darla Lang.”

“Wait...a girl? Then…how?”

“Psssh, I include the first time someone makes you come with their mouth. You think I believe that your “innocence” is lost because a man puts his dick inside you? Fuck that heteronormative bullshit.”

Betty giggles, wide-eyed, then looks contemplative. “Fair enough..then I guess I’m not a virgin? But I didn’t lose it in the office. We just fooled around. It felt so good to just...be together, to be normal teenagers for awhile.”

“Yeah, I figure you needed to decompress after a morning with your mother. She’s a piece of work, that one.”

“Actually, she was pretty chill today.” Toni’s face must convey her skepticism, because Betty clarifies, “I mean, not chill in general. But chill with me. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I? Instead of locked in my room or sent to a Home for Troubled Youth, which is progress for her. And we kind of...had a heart-to-heart, about her Serpent past. But she’s having some trouble relinquishing control-which I’m assuming is the reason she suddenly became obsessed with covering the hole in the floor. Like, she can’t make me do what she says, but she can fix that, you know?”

“Yeah, that was...a bit much. I’m assuming she’s the reason you came back this afternoon dressed like a Polly Pocket?” Betty nods.

“Sweetpea and Fangs already tagged the terra-cotta pot with ‘Alice Cooper is a Hell Witch,’ by the way. Sweetpea didn’t appreciate her acid tongue.” Betty sighs as Toni goes on to say, “It’s not the cleverest revenge, I admit, but he hasn’t had to be good with words since he had that growth spurt; he has his fists do his talking. Even Sweetpea wouldn’t hit a mom, though. I kinda love watching him sulk about it. I only hope I’m able to steamroll people that easily when I’m old.”

“I don’t know,” Betty says with a grin, “I think you’re pretty good at getting your way.”

“We’ll find out tonight.”

“What’s the plan?” Betty asks.

“You got your jacket? Put it on first. Armor before battle, girl.” Betty complies, removing her pink cardigan to reveal a black and white striped camisole. Then she takes her leather jacket from her purse, and stuffs her pink sweater inside. “You got a mirror in there?”

“Sure.”

Betty pulls a shiny yellow compact from her makeup bag while Toni searches her jacket pocket for her lipgloss. Then the blonde holds the mirror open so Toni can paint her lips millennial pink. 

“Attention, everybody!” Toni says. She rubs her lips together to distribute the gloss while she waits for the chattering women to quiet. “When the meeting starts, we are going to stand right here by the pool table, so they have a good view of the pole and of us. A united front.”

“And if Tall Boy gets riled up?” asks Cricket.

“Who cares? If he throws another tantrum, we have each other, and we have Sweetpea and Fangs and the Joneses and any of the more enlightened types to stand beside us. But I think he’ll back down once he sees we’re serious.”

“Besides,” adds Jughead, smirking at them as he walks to his girlfriend’s side, “Betty can protect you. She knocked him unconscious last time, remember?” 

Maria emerges from behind the bar with a tray full of beers and begins passing them around. 

“Set one aside for me, will ya?” calls FP as he walks in the door, making Jughead scowl. By the time FP’s taken his first sip, the room has already started to fill with Serpent men. At first, they slap backs and bump fists like any other meeting day, but then they notice that there’s no one manning the bar; the bartenders are standing by the pool table with all the other Serpent women, arms crossed. The combined force of the women’s stares has the men’s conversation turning confused and agitated. There’s a chorus of “What the hell?” and “Where’d that tree come from?” and then “What did those girls do?”

“I feel like I’m in a scene from a Wonder Woman comic,” says Jughead. “Like, man’s first encounter with the Themysciran army.” Still, as the tension in the room ratchets up, he moves to wrap his arms protectively around his girlfriend.

With a long-suffering look at Toni, FP sighs and stands. “I guess you’ve noticed by now that the ladies took down one of the poles on the stage. It’s on the pool table, in case any of you were wondering. So I’m sure you understand why the first order of business tonight is discussing the Serpent dance. Toni, you can take the floor.”

Toni surveys the crowd of men, all significantly larger than she is, and feels a rare pang of doubt. There is a tap on her shoulder, and she looks up to see Sweetpea is at her back.

“You want a boost?” Sweetpea asks with a twinkle in his eye. He recognizes that she’s wishing for a few more inches of height, for the world to see her as the threat she knows herself to be. He is familiar with the feeling-or was, until fifth grade when he went from smallest boy in class to tallest.

She nods, laughing, and he lifts her onto the pool table. It reminds her of elementary school, when Sweetpea lifted her onto the lunch table so she could drop mashed potatoes into Malachi Gordon’s hair (the older boy said Toni smelled like hot dog water, and that’s why her Mama ran away.) 

She looks down to see Jughead offer an encouraging nod. Betty smiles excitedly. From across the room, Fangs winks. 

Toni squares her shoulders.“I’m sure you remember my speech at New Year’s, but if not here’s a recap: The Serpent Dance is a creepy, exploitative tradition, and we want it gone.”

“Why do you have to be so dramatic about everything, Topaz? Nobody cares about this shit.” shouts Venom. Fangs cuffs the blonde man on the back of the head, and Venom elbows him, though FP intervenes before it turns into a shoving match. 

“The girls care. Since we consider the initiation of female members to be female business, we are no longer considering male opinions. Your support, or lack thereof, is immaterial. AKA: we do not give a single fuck. We took down one stripper pole, we will tear down the others, wreck this whole bar if we have to. I want you to think long and hard about whether that’s a fight you want. Do you want a civil war? Or do you want us united against our real enemies, the Ghoulies?”

“But what are we going to do at parties?” Porkchop whines. “What kind of party has no strippers? This is bullshit.”

“Don’t worry, Porkchop, we have a plan to fulfill all your horndog needs. Angela is going to run strip club nights here one Friday a month, and on special occasions, whenever Lottie, Laurie, and the other Landing Strip girls are available. But they will be paid for their work.”

By now, Tall Boy has elbowed his way to the front of the crowd. He halts in front of FP, making Jughead jolt and Sweetpea start forward. “I know this is a scheme for you and your boy to divert money from our Jingle Jangle operation, you son of a bitch.”

Jughead moves protectively in front of Betty, and FP puts his hands up in a placating gesture. “And I told you, Tall Boy. This has nothing to do with me.”

“No,” Toni shouts angrily, “it doesn't. And in fact, neither FP nor Jughead nor any member of the male gender will touch a dime of that money. It will be going to the girls who dance. And any extra profits will fund childcare or cleanup or any of the other billion unpaid jobs the women do around here. Betty and me are going to turn all-girl poker night into an official Serpent subcommittee. If there’s any women’s issue we can’t resolve there, we will bring it to the monthly meeting. But otherwise, you don’t get a say.”

The men don’t seem to know how to react, though Tall Boy is still glowering from the corner, where Bridget, Sweetpea, and Fangs have herded him.

FP wipes beer foam off his lips with the back of his hand. “Alright, I think we all know they aren’t kidding, and I for one am not about to take on an angry woman with a powersaw. Anyone who wants to die on this hill, raise your hand. Otherwise, I think we better accept the new rules Toni laid out and move on.”

There’s some grumbling, but only four raise their hands: Tall Boy, Venom, Rattler, and Pork Chop. 

And just like that, the motion’s passed.

“In that case,” yells Maria in a cheerful voice, “I’ll be back behind the bar if anyone’s got drink orders!”

Toni lets out a long breath, feeling a bit dizzy. It’s real. The Serpent dance is gone. 

She hears the high pitched “woohoo”ing that can only come from a white girl. When she hops off the pool table, Toni is immediately pulled into a hug.

“We did it!” Betty squeals in her ear, jumping up and down in her arms.

Toni pulls away a little, unsticking a strand of blonde hair from her glossed lips. She smiles.

“We did.”

“Nice work, Topaz,” says Jughead. “And you, too, of course, Betts.”

Betty is grinning at her proudly, and Toni feels a swell of affection for her partner-in-crime. She winks at Jughead, then leans in to peck Betty briefly on the lips.

Betty lets out a startled laugh, and Toni declares, “There! Now I’ve kissed all my goodlooking friends.”

She ignores Jughead’s playful scold (“Hey! Didn’t you hear she’s my girlfriend again”) and says, her voice serious. “Thank you, Betty. Really. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

The blonde smiles, those big green eyes sparkling. “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to finish before hiatus ends if it’s the last thing I do! ;) Hope it’s winding down to everyone’s satisfaction! Let me know what you think!
> 
> EDIT: I clearly did not finish before the end of hiatus. :( I hope I find inspiration again (I really wanted Betty p  
> to get that IUD!) but I can’t make any guarantees. I really appreciate everyone’s support and kindness and patience!!!! <3 <3 <3


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